


Destination: Wedding

by AhaMarimbas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Bisexual Harry Potter, Chad (Country), Cute, Divorce Attorney Draco Malfoy, Divorced Astoria Greengrass & Draco Malfoy, Divorced Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is a Good Parent, Dragons, F/M, Fluff, H/D Fan Fair 2019, Healing, Humor, Las Vegas Wedding, Light Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Norway (Country), Oblivious Harry Potter, Outed Character, Past Abusive Relationship(s), San Francisco, Secondary Theme: Travel Fair, Self-Esteem Issues, Symbolism, Tourism, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-11-22 18:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20878532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AhaMarimbas/pseuds/AhaMarimbas
Summary: Harry keeps accidentally getting married by not knowing the customs of cultures he visits and Draco is his long-suffering divorce attorney. Is Harry doing it on purpose? Are the people he's marrying doing it on purpose? Is everyone involved just an idiot? Read on and find out!





	1. Norway

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[170](https://docs.google.com/document/d/16er_sVwwFtbVQxtiFqHRWhw09kwNYhywsB-R48qtVPU/edit#).
> 
> The career theme was divorce attorney and the secondary theme is travel to multiple locations. The prompt itself, along with the prompter's notes, were so perfect that I just made them the summary - you can see why it attracted me so much! Thank you to the prompter for the hilarious idea.
> 
> A huge thanks also goes to M for the incredible beta work and cheerleading. The fact that you were literally beta'ing as I wrote to help me meet my deadline was incredible, and your amazing comments are what kept me going and made this work what it is!
> 
> A dragon sized thank you also goes out to the mods for being so patient with the multiple extensions I needed to get this done. 
> 
> You're all awesome!
> 
> The Harry Potter Universe and it's characters belong to J.K. Rowling, I just planned a few weddings in it.

“Hi Harry!” Scorpius called, looking up from whatever he was working on. 

“Hey kid. What are you creating this time?”

“I’m drawing a picture of what my wedding is going to look like!” he said excitedly.

“Aren’t you a little young to get married?” Harry asked, trying his best not to wince at the mention of marriage. After all, he was only here talking to this sweet child because of his disastrous failure of a wedding.

“Just because I’m drawing it doesn’t mean I have to do it.” Scorpius sighed dramatically. “Papa says people need to think long and hard about it before getting married. Anyways, it’s not legal to get married before you’re seventeen, the Ministry won’t let the couple sign the marriage contract, or a prenup or anything.”

“But if people thought long and hard about getting married and no longer needed divorces, your papa wouldn’t have a job anymore, would he?” Harry quietly refrained from pointing out that Draco was a huge hypocrite if he was advising people not to get married to the wrong person. He didn’t think antagonizing a five-year old about his parents’ horrible divorce was a great idea, especially when Harry desperately needed said five-year-old’s father’s help with his own divorce.

Scorpius stared at Harry, clearly stunned at this revelation. Behind him, Draco’s secretary chuckled under her breath.

“Ready to finalize everything, Harry?” she asked as she handed him a folder.

“Very much so. See you in a bit kid,” he called to Scorpius, before turning and walking into Draco’s office. He’d been surprised when he’d come here for the first time, almost four months ago. He’d expected an opulent, Slytherin green office, possibly dark and cold like the dungeons at Hogwarts had been. Draco’s office, however, was bright and airy, tastefully decorated in very neutral tones of brown and cream.

“Oh, it’s you,” Draco sighed, barely glancing up at Harry. “Have a seat, we’ll go over the final documents in a moment.”

Harry sat down in the soft leather chair in front of Draco’s desk, watching as the man sighed heavily at the papers he was holding, and slipped them into a drawer next to him.

"Did Priscillia give you the final contract?" he asked. Harry held up the folder.

"This?"

Draco nodded. "Looks about right. Open it up and we can go over the last few changes together."

Twenty minutes later, Harry and Draco both stepped out of the office to find that Scorpius had finished his drawing about weddings and was now creating, "a new decorating plan for your office, Papa!".

"It looks great!" Harry said, grinning at Draco over Scorpius' head. "I especially love that everything is orange and lime green."

"It was supposed to be orange and pink," Scorpius said matter-of-factly. "Orange is my favourite colour, and pink is Priscillia's. But my pink crayon broke, so I picked green instead, because it's Papa's favourite colour."

"To be fair, I generally favour a darker green, but I appreciate the help, Scorpius," Draco said diplomatically. "I know Harry's buying a new apartment, maybe he can hire you for your decorating services someday too."

Harry and Priscillia both started laughing; of course Draco would turn the five-year-old’s decorating skills back on Harry.

"Why do you have a new apartment?" Scorpius asked.

"Scorpius, that's a very personal question," Draco said patiently. He turned to look apologetically at Harry, who shrugged.

"That's okay. My wife and I are getting divorced. That's why I've been coming to see your papa so much. We agreed that she can keep the apartment we were living in, and that I'll find a new place."

"Oh, like Mummy and Papa. Except it was Mummy who got a new house, not Papa. They got divorced because they didn't love each other anymore. Is that why you're getting divorced too?"

"Scorpius," Draco groaned. "These are very personal questions!"

"Sorry," Scorpius said, not looking up at them. "Are you sad that your wife is gone?"

Draco groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat, but Harry didn't mind Scorpius' questions.

"A little bit. But I know we're both going to be happier when we find our true loves, so it's okay."

Harry thought he heard a little snort from Draco. He was definitely sugar coating how his marriage had ended. In actuality, Laura was a terrible woman who had only pretended to love Harry in an attempt to benefit from his fame and his money. Barely a week after they'd returned from their honeymoon, she'd started acting quite indifferent to him, eventually turning quite nasty any time he so much as tried to talk to her. She had been spending exorbitant amounts of (his) money, and didn't agree with anything Harry wanted. They hadn't even lasted a year before Harry had found another man in their bed with her, and marched straight over to Draco's office to start the divorce process.

While he was glad to be rid of Laura (despite the chunk of his bank account that she'd taken with her), he didn't see the need to tell Scorpius how horrible it had really been. The poor kid probably heard enough about terrible marriages and divorces, seeing as he spent most of his time in his father's office.

"Remember, you have to think long and hard about your true love before you marry them!" Scorpius said, cheering up a little.

Harry and Priscillia laughed at that, while Draco turned beet red.

"Okay, I think it's time to find a primary school for you, Mister. You're like a sponge—sitting here is doing you no good whatsoever."

"But I don't wanna go to school, Papa!" Scorpius whined. "If I go to school, then I won't see Harry when he comes to visit anymore!"

"Harry's not coming to visit anymore, Scorpius," Draco said gently. Scorpius whipped his head around to look at Harry, horrified.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Well, I'm going on vacation," Harry said quickly, not wanting to break Scorpius' heart and explain that his divorce was now final. "How about I bring you back a souvenir?"

Scorpius grinned, shaking in his seat. Draco had explained to Harry during one of their many meetings that Scorpius started shaking almost uncontrollably whenever he was extremely excited.

"Whe—where are you going?" he managed to stutter out. Draco kneeled next to his son, rubbing his back in an attempt to calm him down a bit.

"Well, I thought that Norway sounded like a nice place to visit. I'm going for a whole month, though I might stay longer if I really like it."

"I don't know where that is." Scorpius frowned, starting to calm down from his excitement. "Can we find it on the map, Papa?"

Draco nodded, standing up and extending his hand towards Harry.

"Well, congratulations on your freedom, Harry, and have a safe trip."

"Thanks," Harry said, returning his handshake. "For everything."

With a curt nod, Draco took Scorpius' hand and disappeared back into his office. Smiling, and excited for his upcoming trip, Harry waved to Priscillia and disapparated on the spot.

* * *

Norway was beautiful. Many people had told him as much, but as Harry sat on the edge of the lake, waiting to watch the midnight sunset for the third time in as many days, he realised that hearing about it and seeing it were two entirely different things. In the week he'd been here, he'd already finished an entire roll of film for his camera, taking pictures of the lake, the wildlife, various plants, his kayaking expedition yesterday, and his adventures through the market this morning.

Harry smiled as he remembered the wizarding community's morning market. He'd walked past a woman who was selling toys in the morning, when a dancing toy reindeer had caught his eye. Remembering his promise to bring a souvenir back for Scorpius, Harry had decided to purchase it. They had struck up a conversation, and Harry had been surprised to find that it was rather freeing to talk to someone who didn't know his whole history, even if the woman's English was a little broken. She had tried to explain that her family mostly spoke Sami and Norwegian, and eventually she had convinced Harry to join her for lunch, where they'd eaten the most delicious stew. Harry hadn't a hope in the world of being able to pronounce it, but she'd managed to convey that it contained mutton and vegetables, and had even taught Harry a couple of words while they chatted.

"Harree!" called an excited voice, and Harry turned to find Camilla, the woman from the toy store, waving at him from a distance away. He waved back, happy to see a familiar face.

"You are watching sun?" she asked, pointing out at the horizon, which was slowly turning orange. Harry nodded.

"I come here everyday. It's beautiful."

"Beautiful," she repeated. "Like, err, preetee?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Very pretty."

She smiled at that, and he gestured to the ground next to him. She sat down and started rummaging through her bag, before pulling out a small box of pastries.

"Krumkake," she said, offering the box to him.

"Kroom-ka-kay?" he repeated, unsure of his pronounciation. She laughed, but didn't bother to correct him, instead shaking the box in his face. Laughing with her, he took one and bit into it. It was delicious. The cone tasted similar to a waffle ice cream cone from Fortescue’s, and was filled with a delicious cream filling.

Harry hummed appreciatively, popping the rest of it into his mouth. She offered him another one, and he happily accepted.

"I made," she said, pointing at the box. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Really? They're delicious!"

"Delisos?" she asked, clearly not recognising the word.

"Um, very tasty. Yummy?" he tried, but nothing seemed to ring a bell with her. He rubbed his stomach and made another appreciative noise, and suddenly, she seemed to understand.

"Nydelig!" she suggested, and even though Harry had no idea whether it was the right word or not, he agreed. It seemed to be correct though, because she looked very pleased with herself and settled down next to him, helping herself to a krumkake as well.

They sat there for a while, watching the sun set, then rise again not long after, eating all the krumkakes, and sharing a thermos of coffee. They didn't talk much, Camilla asking a couple of questions about him here and there, but otherwise sitting quietly. Harry was really enjoying the sound of the waves on the lake, and the occasional calls from various wild animals. It was rare that he found peace and quiet like this back in London, and he intended to savour it.

"You are married?" Camilla asked suddenly. Harry glanced at her, before staring out at the water ruefully.

"No. You?"

She shook her head, closing up the box.

"No. Not married. Going home. Good night Harree."

"Goodnight Camilla," he said, giving her a gentle smile as she stood up. He watched as she disappeared down the walkway towards the small village beyond, turning her very sudden question over and over in his head. With a shrug he pushed it out of his mind, and turned his attention back to the lake.

He was done with marriage anyways. Part of the reason he'd decided to go travelling was to get away from the media storm back home. When Harry had finally reached his limit and demanded a divorce from Laura, she had run straight to the Prophet about it, trying to spin the story so that it made her look like a jilted lover, and like Harry had never really cared. It hadn't been long before he'd been forced to retaliate, giving the Prophet, the Quibbler, Witch Weekly and Quidditch Quarterly in-depth interviews about how they were no longer in love. He'd tried his best to avoid smearing her name, despite everything she'd done to him, but when Draco had started the divorce process for him, he'd written the reason as infidelity. No one was quite sure how the Prophet had gotten ahold of those papers, but when they did, things had really escalated. Everyone had spent about two weeks speculating who had been unfaithful, before Laura's secret boyfriend had decided that he wanted a piece of the attention too and proposed to her, right in the middle of Diagon Alley. When she'd rejected him, playing it off as some random stranger who just wanted a famous wife, he'd retaliated by giving Skeeter an exclusive interview about every single time they'd had sex behind Harry's back. It had enraged Harry even more to see exactly how long she'd been cheating, but not as much as it had hurt to see himself described as an oblivious loser who couldn't even satisfy his own wife. Draco had tried to console him, insisting that this made it easier to prove her fault and therefore prevent her taking all his money, but Harry didn't care about the money. It was the betrayal that had really hurt; he had genuinely thought he loved her, and that she loved him.

Mood soured by his melancholy thoughts, Harry lifted himself off the ground, deciding that it was time for bed. It wasn't like there was anything stopping him from sleeping in, but all the same, it had been a long day. As he brushed his teeth and changed his clothes, Harry's thoughts drifted toward toy reindeers and krumkake. Cheered by how well his vacation was going, he drifted off to sleep smiling.

* * *

Harry spent another few days observing the beauty and culture of Nordland, and enjoying the hearty food, before he ran into Camilla again. If pressed, he might admit that he had been thinking about her for the past few days, and had purposely made his way back to the market, but when she asked, he insisted that he was here to buy bread, and what a lovely surprise it was to run into her again. He wasn't sure how he felt about the knowing glint in her eye, but pressed on anyways, asking her to join him for dinner at a beautiful lakeside restaurant he'd found during his adventures the day before. Thankfully she'd accepted, shooing him away from her stall when she started to notice other customers hovering unsurely behind Harry.

That night he made his way up the path of a beautiful little brick house, dressed in a formal set of robes that he had purchased that very afternoon after realising in a panic that he had only packed jeans and jumpers for his trip. The cut and design on the robes were rather different than what he was used to wearing, but the salesman had assured Harry that this was the latest fashion. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked.

Out of all the eventualities he had prepared for, having the door open to reveal a stern looking elderly man yelling at him in a language he didn't understand was not one of them. He thought for a moment that he'd gotten the wrong house, but then Camilla appeared in the hall, dressed in a beautiful green dress and looking at Harry apologetically.

"Sorry, this my Pappa," she said hastily, before saying something to her father, in a clear attempt to calm him down. After a minute of back and forth between them, her father stepped back and gestured for Harry to come in, slamming the door behind him. Harry stood where he was, shooting confused glances at Camilla as her father circled him, clearly sizing him up. Finally, the man faced Harry and started to speak. Harry listened politely, and thankfully Camilla hurried to translate as soon as he was done.

"He want to know how he can trust you," she sighed, looking a little resigned. Harry stared back, unsure how he was supposed to prove such a thing.

"How can I do that? Doesn't it take time to trust someone else?" he asked. She translated for her father, who, despite his earlier fury, looked rather impressed with Harry's reasoning. He said something back, which caused Camilla to sigh exasperatedly. She replied to her father without bothering to translate for Harry, and it sounded like they were having a rather heated argument, before her father finally seemed to agree.

He turned to Harry, poking a finger into his chest and threatening something vaguely menacing before turning and stomping off down the hall.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Yes. He is not remembering that I am not a baby."

Harry smiled at that. His mind suddenly conjured a hilarious image of Draco threatening a five year old girl in much the same way Camilla's father had just threatened him. _ Or boy, _ he amended in his head. When Laura had outed Harry to the world as bisexual, Scorpius had read the article and promptly declared that he was 'bisecal' as well.

Trying to push thoughts of Laura out of his head, he offered Camilla his arm, and they walked through the village to the restaurant together, Camilla telling him an adorable story of two children who had come to her stall during the day. They had just reached the restaurant, where the host was waiting to greet them at the door, when two pops of apparation sounded next to them.

Camilla groaned, and Harry turned to look at the couple, who turned out to be Camilla's father, and an elderly woman who looked strikingly like Camilla. As Camilla started arguing with her father once more, Harry turned to the lady he assumed to be her mother, giving her a bright smile and shaking her hand.

"Uggh!" Camilla yelled in frustration, her father looking smug. "They decided that they want also to eat here now," she explained to Harry. Her tone of voice made it clear that they were here to keep an eye on Harry and Camilla. While his new friend seemed rather irritated by her parents' antics, he couldn't help thinking it was rather sweet. He longed for parents who would be so protective of him, and couldn't help feeling jealous of Camilla. Not wanting his dark thoughts to ruin the evening though, he turned to the host.

"Hi. I have a reservation for Potter, but we have two extra guests. Is it possible to get a table for four instead?"

The host nodded, and gestured for the group to follow them.

"Harree," Camilla asked cautiously. "You say table for four?"

"Won't your parents be joining us?" he asked, smiling at the elder couple. Camilla looked stunned for a moment, before turning and explaining the situation to her parents. They both looked stunned as well, before her mother reached out and pinched Harry's cheek.

"Sot gutt," she said, and even though Harry had no idea what it meant, it sounded good, so he smiled back.

As they sat down at the table, Harry held out Camilla's chair for her, which earned her father a glare from her mother. Harry glanced around and was relieved to see that the restaurant was as nice from the inside as it was from the outside. He took a moment to wonder why he was so worried about impressing this girl and her family when they'd only met a couple of days ago, but pushed it out of his mind. She seemed sweet, and he enjoyed doing nice things with friends.

Their server popped up almost immediately, asking for their drink orders. Harry turned to Camilla and asked if she or her parents liked anything specific. After a bit of discussion with the waiter, she suggested a certain wine, of which Harry ordered two bottles.

"What do you think will be good?" Harry asked, looking down at his menu after the server had returned with the wine. He glanced up at her, and smiled at the look of intense concentration on her face as she bit her lip and contemplated the menu. He didn't even hear what she ordered for him, choosing instead to just enjoy the atmosphere and the company.

"Why you looking to me?" she asked curiously, making him realise that he was staring.

"Oh, no reason," he said quickly, sitting up straight and diverting his eyes. Unfortunately, his gaze landed right on her father, who scowled at him before grumbling something to no one in general.

"He want to know what you do," Camilla translated. Harry frowned as he realised telling them he was unemployed might not be the smartest move. He decided to see if he could avoid the question instead.

"I travel," he said confidently. "I want to see the world, and I decided to start here."

She rolled her eyes but translated for her parents nonetheless. Her father scoffed at him.

"But how you make money for travel?" she asked.

"Um, my parents left me enough when they died." He didn't want to reveal that he was rather wealthy quite yet—he found people always treated him differently for it. Her eyes went wide at his statement however, and he realised with a start that while he may have made peace with the fact that his parents were gone many years ago, it was still jarring for strangers when he told them about it.

Predictably enough, her mother gasped when she translated his statement, but his father still seemed suspicious.

"How they died?" she asked quietly, at her father's request.

"There was a war, in England," he answered calmly. "They lost their lives fighting."

This set up the family for another little bout of rapid conversation, in which it seemed like Camilla was once again at odds with her father.

"Yes, we hear about war there. Pappa ask, which side they on?" She sounded hesitant, as if she really didn't want to be asking. Harry had a horrible moment where he wondered if this family had been Voldemort sympathisers.

"We fought against Voldemort," he said quietly. He was relieved to see that they relaxed at his statement.

"You fight too?" she asked, reaching out to take his hand in hers when he nodded. This really hadn't been the type of conversation he had been imagining when he'd asked her out this morning.

Thankfully, the server chose that very moment to arrive with the food, and the prospect of dinner seemed to shatter the awkward silence. Camilla's father started explaining to Harry what each thing was, with his daughter translating dutifully, and her mother kept placing more food on his plate. Happily reminded of Molly, Harry let her serve him a little bit of everything, and ate it all without fuss. He wasn't surprised to find that the food was delicious. Camilla's parents were also wonderful company, once they opened up to him. They told him happy stories about their life in the village, and by the end of the night, he almost felt like he had grown up with this family and their adventures.

After a little tussle with Camilla's father over who would pay the bill, and a short walk to accompany them all home, Harry said goodnight to the little family, feeling satisfied in a way that he didn't quite think was due to the food.

* * *

Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Harry met Camilla quite regularly. Sometimes he'd meet her in the market, and she would show him all kinds of lovely spots for lunch. Sometimes he'd take her out to dinner, always inviting her parents along, though now that they seemed to trust him, they didn't usually accept the invitation. One time she'd even taken him to a fesitval where they'd listened to lively music while munching on the Norwegian equivalent of a hot dog, washed down with beer.

Harry was having so much fun with her, that it was an odd surprise when he knocked a stack of papers off his bedside table one day, and read on the itinerary that he was supposed to go to Oslo the next day. He'd completely forgotten about that leg of the trip.

He sat down on his bed, considering his options. He didn't really want to leave the small village, and his new friend behind. But the point of travelling was to see and experience new things, wasn't it?

Two hours later he wandered back out of his hotel and down the street to a little coffee shop where he was due to meet Camilla. Spotting her at a table in the corner, he joined her with a smile.

"So, I forgot that I was supposed to go to Oslo tomorrow," he said sheepishly.

"Oh." She hesitated for a moment. "Oslo is nice. Is a big city. Many people. Lots of things to see."

Harry nodded. He pulled out his itinerary, presenting the lists of museums, heritage sites and viewpoints his travel agent had recommended. She nodded approvingly at it.

"You will have fun," she stated blandly. Harry could tell she was disappointed, and cast around for something to say to cheer her up. It was then that he had an idea.

"Come with me!" he said suddenly. "Come show me Oslo!"

Camilla laughed at that.

"You joking," she said. Harry shook his head.

"I'll pay for your train ticket, and a separate hotel room if you want. Just come with me."

She stared at him for a moment, struggling to believe the generous offer.

"Really?" she blurted, finally smiling when Harry nodded.

"I ask Pappa," she said thoughtfully.

"Let's ask him now," Harry said, standing up and offering her his arm. A few minutes later, he found himself in her parents' living room, being shouted at by her father. Clearly he didn't find the idea of going to Oslo nearly as lovely as his daughter did.

"Pappa says no travel together alone. Not before married."

"Even if I get you your own room?" he asked. She shook her head sadly.

"Would they want to come with us?" Harry tried, even though he really didn't want to be toting Camilla's parents around the city, as nice as they were. She laughed at his suggestion, explaining that someone would still have to be here to run the shop.

"Okay," he sighed, resigned. "But I'll come back and see you again, soon."

Camilla nodded, a bright smile plastered on her face, though her eyes seemed to be watering.

"Safe trip Harree."

* * *

After a week in the city, Harry had visited most of the destinations on his itinerary and could quite proudly say that he now knew his way around Oslo very well. He was slated to spend another week here and then head back to England, but the travel agent had said that he could easily extend his trip if he wanted to. He sent out a couple of international owls, one to the travel agent to ask him to rebook the hotel up north for another two weeks, and another to Hermione and Ron, to let them know where he was and how he was doing. Satisfied that he had seen as much of the city as he wanted (and anyways, he would have to come back here for his international portkey home whenever he decided to leave), he packed his bags and hopped on a train headed right back up north.

While the whole country was beautiful, Harry had really enjoyed the connection with nature up in the small village much more than the typical tourist attractions in the city. Though he had to admit, being in the city had its perks. He had found a beautiful shop full of intricate wooden pieces the other day, just down the street from one of the many museums had seen. Deciding to take a look, he’d been thrilled to find a display of wooden spoons called love spoons. The small card that came with each spoon explained that these were traditional spoons for showing affection. It seemed like a lovely gift to give, and they weren’t too expensive. He picked up three—one for Ron, one for Hermione, and one for Draco. He was making his way over to the counter to pay when it suddenly struck him that this would be a nice gift to give Camilla too. After all, he was buying one for each of his other friends—why should she be left out?

The shopkeeper gave him an odd look when Harry placed the four spoons on the counter and fished out his money bag to pay. Harry didn’t think much of it. The man was probably just curious to see a tourist in his shop. Thanking him with a bright smile, Harry grabbed hold of his wrapped up purchases and headed back to his hotel feeling oddly cheerful.

* * *

Harry got off the train and made it to his hotel in record time, stopping only to wash his face, put on a fresh pair of clothes, and grab one of the spoons from his suitcase, before racing into the village towards Camilla’s home. He paused outside the oor to catch his breath for a moment, and then knocked cheerfully. The door swung open to reveal her mother in a beautifully embroidered apron.

“Harree!” she cried happily, pulling him into a tight embrace. Harry returned her hug enthusiastically, before being led down the hall into the sitting room. Sh gestured for him to sit, before yelling something out to the house in general and heading into the open kitchen, from which a delicious smell was emerging. Harry barely had time to wonder what she might be cooking when Camilla wandered in. She paused for a moment, clearly surprised to see Harry, but as he stood up to greet her, she broke into a wide smile.

“Harree! Oh, so good to see you again!”

“It’s good to see you too,” he replied, giving her a hug. They sat back down on the sofa, chatting about his trip to Oslo. It wasn’t long before her mother reappeared, this time with a tray of spiced coffee and her father in tow. As they all settled down in the cozy room, Harry suddenly remembered his gift for Camilla.

"I brought you a present," he said excitedly, pulling the hastily wrapped spoon from his bag. She accepted it curiously, turning it over in her hands before carefully peeling back the wrapping paper. She stared at it in shock for a moment, before carefully looking back up at Harry.

"For me?" she asked, pointing at her own chest just to make sure.

"Of course," Harry smiled, unsure why she was so surprised with a wooden spoon. Suddenly, she turned to her mother, chattering away excitedly and showing her the gift. Her mother's reaction was very similar to Camilla's and soon the two of them were speaking excitedly, and Harry had no idea what could possibly be going on.

He turned to her father, wondering if the man might give him any hint, but he was simply sitting there, staring curiously at Harry. Harry smiled at him, glancing again at Camilla before looking at the man again, who suddenly seemed to be quite happy too.

Without warning, Camilla suddenly threw herself at Harry, giving him a bone crushing hug. He spared a moment to wonder if the spoon was enchanted, or coated in amortentia, or something similar, because she was suddenly being very affectionate. Thankfully, a pointed cough from her father made her let go almost immediately, but she still sat shyly next to Harry while her parents kept talking to each other. Finally, they all stood up, and Camilla pulled Harry up with her.

"Come, time for eating!" she said. Harry smiled, trying to ignore the fact that he had basically invited himself over for dinner. They seemed happy enough to host him, and if he hadn't just returned from Oslo, he probably would have made dinner plans with Camilla anyway.

After a hearty meal, during which Camilla and her mum talked non-stop, and her father kept giving Harry rough pats on the shoulder, Harry picked up his bag, turning to thank his hosts and say goodnight.

"Wait Harree! Mama and Pappa say you stay here."

"Oh, that's okay. I have a hotel room booked."

"Nonsense! You stay here!" she insisted. Harry considered her for a moment, before deciding to accept.

"I have to get my things from the hotel," he pointed out. Camilla nodded.

"I come too." There wasn't much to bring over, but Harry figured he wouldn't mind the company.

They decided to walk, and Harry was just enjoying the fresh evening air when Camilla slipped her hand into his. It was soft and small. For a moment, he had a bitter flashback of walking down Diagon Alley with Laura, back when they had still been "in love", but decided to push it out of his mind. Laura was in the past now. He was supposed to be moving on.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as they approached the hotel. Nodding to the welcome wizard, they made their way upstairs and down the hall to Harry's room. He unlocked the door and made his way over to the desk, grabbing his larger rucksack and stuffing it in his pocket with the aid of a shrinking charm. He turned back to Camilla to find that she had closed the door, and had _ a look _ on her face.

"Are you all right?" he asked. She smiled coyly, stepping closer and reaching out to cup his face in her hand. Harry barely had time to react before her lips were on his. Oh Merlin, she was kissing him! He pulled back, gasping for breath.

"Your parents will be so mad!" he blurted, realising belatedly that that shouldn't have been his first concern when a girl he'd only known for a couple of weeks was kissing him. But that was the thing, wasn't it? They'd known each other for a couple of weeks now, and he had to admit that he liked her very much. Heck, he'd bought her something called a "love spoon" as a souvenir. No wonder she was kissing him.

"They not here," she whispered, before moving forward and capturing his lips again. Realising she was absolutely right, he kissed her back.

* * *

The next week was incredibly busy, but also a lot of fun. Harry woke up early with the rest of the family every day and had breakfast with them. He and Camilla would then go into her father's workshop and load up the toys he'd made the previous day, before carrying them over to the shop and opening for the day. He spent most of the day with her in the shop, helping her clean and playing with the children who visited.

After closing the shop, the two of them would make their way back to the house, where invariably some relative or family friend would be visiting. For some odd reason, they all seemed thrilled to meet Harry. He would usually spend the afternoon with them, Camilla stepping in to translate. When he noticed her mother slipping away to prepare dinner, he would usually follow, opting to watch her cook and hoping he could pick up some recipes. She seemed delighted to teach him—apparently Camilla wasn't a huge fan of cooking, but her mum had always wanted to pass on her recipes. Of course, Camilla ended up learning everything he learned anyway, simply because she had to explain whatever her mother was lecturing them about.

"Are you the only one in your family who knows English?" Harry asked her one evening as they sat in the yard, digesting another delicious dinner.

"Yes. I took lessons in school, to help with the shop. You should take lessons too."

Harry laughed.

"I guess I should," he shrugged. He wasn't sure how much longer he would be in the country, but he was enjoying himself so much that he figured staying a little while more wouldn't be an issue at all. Plus, if he could communicate, it might encourage him to come visit again soon.

Camilla's mother snapped him out of his thoughts, coming out into the yard and saying something to her daughter. Camilla blushed, but nodded and stood up.

"We should be sleeping, must be awake early tomorrow," she explained. Harry nodded; they were usually up early anyway, so he wasn't sure what the sudden warning was for. Feeling like he was ready for bed though, he followed her up the stairs, her mother trailing behind them for some reason. Figuring the whole family was tired, he bid them goodnight and closed his door.

* * *

Harry wasn't sure what time it was, but he was certain of one thing; it was too goddamn early to be awake. So why on earth was Camilla's father knocking on the door and calling out to him? Bleary eyed, Harry rolled out of bed and shuffled toward the door, wondering what he could possibly want.

He did not expect to find the man standing there holding a set of formal robes and nattering away about something or other. He barged into Harry's room, making the bed with a flick of his wand before laying the robes out on top of the covers.

"Wash," he said, pointing at Harry's towel. Taking it to mean that he needed to shower, Harry sighed, grabbing his things and slouching into the washroom. As he was showering, he realised that his host had probably brought the formal robes for him, which mean they were taking him to some kind of formal event. With a sigh, he shot a shaving charm at his face, before returning to his room. Camilla's father was sitting on his bed next to the robes, humming happily to himself.

"Wear," he said, pointing at the robes. Harry tried slipping his trousers on under his towel, feeling a little self conscious in front of his host, who didn't seem to think it was necessary to give Harry any privacy. It only just worked, and he continued to get dressed quickly. He was surprised to find that the robes were fairly comfortable, and looked rather smart. He was still admiring his reflection in the mirror when Camilla's father came up behind him and started playing with his hair. He was just wondering how to tell the man that it was hopeless, when his hair actually flattened out. Harry was sure it had been a spell—he was just annoyed that he didn't know _ which _ one.

Once he'd been deemed ready to go, Camilla's father led him out of the house and down the walkway into the village. It wasn't long before Harry realised they were headed to the church. Everyone else walking up the drive seemed to be dressed rather nicely too, and Harry assumed they were taking him for some kind of prayer. He wasn't in the least bit religious, but it was touching that they'd thought to include him in what was obviously an important morning for them.

They sat down in the front row, though the trip there was not a smooth one. It seemed that everyone in the church wanted to meet him. He guessed it must have something to do with him being an outsider, and simply smiled and nodded as Camilla's father apparently introduced him to the entire community. Finally, they were seated, with two empty chairs on Harry's other side. He turned in his seat to glance around, finding that most of the church already seemed to be full. He thought about putting his scarf, or his outer robes, over the two chairs next to him to save them for Camilla and her mother, but at that moment he noticed them coming in. Camilla looked stunning, wearing a lacy white dress that came to her knees and a pink rose in her hair. She smiled at him, taking his hand as she sat down next to him. Harry glanced at her parents, but they didn't seem to mind, so he relaxed and just let the ceremony flow around him.

He was just admiring the intricate woodwork that decorated the church, when Camilla tugged at his hand and pulled him to the front.

"What are we doing?" Harry asked, aware of all eyes on them.

"Prayer," she said simply. Harry wondered why no one else in the church was coming up to the front. Maybe it was because he was the newcomer?

The prayer didn't last long, though Harry was hyper aware of the fact that Camilla continued to hold his hand in front of the entire church. Finally the priest (was that what they called it?) touched both their heads (probably in some kind of blessing) and announced something to the church at large, which made everyone cheer. Deciding that it must be some kind of welcome, since no one else had come forward for the prayer, Harry smiled at all of them, feeling loved and warm.

After the church let out, they made their way to a nearby restaurant, where a good chunk of the community that had been at the church followed them. Lunch (had they really been in the church that long?) was a rowdy affair, with people singing and dancing and toasting all over the place. Camilla, for her part, never left his side, though there always seemed to be someone wanting her attention, and preventing Harry from asking what all the celebration was for. Soon enough, she pulled him into the ruckus to dance as well. Harry rather enjoyed himself, though he was incredibly surprised when she kissed him, right there on the dance floor. He glanced around nervously, but no one seemed at all bothered by the sight, despite the fact that barely two weeks ago, Camilla's parents had given them pointed coughs when they so much as hugged each other.

As the evening went on, Harry enjoyed himself more and more, though he had to admit that the friends and family were all getting rather rowdy, considering how much they'd been drinking all day. They were still celebrating by dinner time, though the restaurant owners had opened out the large patio doors, allowing some cool fresh air in. By the time dinner was over, Harry found himself yawning—he really had been woken up early. Camilla picked up on it right away, dragging him up and out the back door, as if they couldn't be seen leaving.

"Tired?" she asked, and he nodded. Hand in hand, they made their way back to the house, Harry enjoying the peace and quiet. He couldn't help feeling a little guilty—this community had welcomed him so openly, and yet he was probably going to have to head back soon. The large gathering had reminded him of Weasley family parties, which had left a little bit of an ache in his stomach. Travelling was nice and all, but he was starting to feel that it might be time to go home soon.

"I think I have to go home soon," he said to Camilla as she pushed open the front door. She looked a little sad, but nodded.

"Yes. When?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe next week?"

Her eyes widened at that.

"Very soon," she whispered, biting her lip. It looked like she was trying to make a decision, but finally nodded.

"Okay. Time for bed."

Harry nodded, and followed her up the stairs. She disappeared into her own room before he could say goodnight, and he hoped he hadn't upset her too much with his announcement. Deciding it could wait until tomorrow, he loosened his tie and flopped onto his own bed.

A moment later, the door to his room creaked open, and Camilla slipped in, still wearing her formal clothes, though her hair had been let down. She closed the door, then made her way over to the bed. Confused, Harry watched as she undid her zipper, and let the dress fall to the floor. She was just climbing onto the bed when his brain kicked in.

"Wait!" he cried, stopping her in her tracks. "Didn't your parents say you have to wait until you're married?"

Camilla stared at him for a moment before she started laughing. He wasn't sure what was so funny, but waited patiently for her to apparently regain her sanity.

"We _ are _ married, silly. Remember, we are celebrating all day?" Her tone made it clear that all this was clearly an amusing joke to her, but something in Harry's mind suddenly clicked. _ They had been celebrating all day. _

Fuck. Bloody-buggering-fuckity-fuck-fucking-bollocks. They were _ married?! _

He must have been staring at her for too long, because her expression slowly started to shift from amused to concern.

"Harree?" she asked cautiously. "You drink too much?"

Harry shook his head. He'd only had a few drinks all day.

"I didn't know," he croaked out, feeling like the world's biggest scumbag and idiot at the same time.

"Did not know what?" she asked, her expression turning towards fearful.

"That we were getting married!" Harry exclaimed. "You didn't even tell me!"

"You gave me love spoon!" she cried, looking hurt. "We prepare all week, how you don't know?"

"I don't understand your language," he replied, trying to remain calm. He knew from experience that yelling was not going to help. "You didn't say it in English. I'm sorry, I didn't know!"

"So now what?" she asked, tears in her eyes. Harry hated that he was hurting her, but he couldn't stay married to her. He barely knew her. "We married now Harree. Even if you didn't know. I still come home with you."

Oh. So that's why she had seemed sad that he was leaving—because she thought she had to leave with him.

"No," he croaked, sliding off the bed and fetching the dress she had dropped on the floor. He handed it to her and she snatched it away, holding it against herself as she tried to cover her modesty, curled in a heap on the bed. He averted his eyes, instead moving to his rucksack, where thankfully the majority of his belongings were still packed. He grabbed the few clothes that were strewn about and shoved them in, turning back to find that Camilla had redressed, and was crying softly on the bed.

"We married," she sobbed, when he sat down next to her. "You don't leave me."

Harry sighed, reaching out to take her hand in his.

"You're beautiful," he said. "And so kind. You deserve better than me."

"You are kind too, Harree," she sniffed.

"Camilla, you won't be happy with me." He could tell he sounded rather cliche, but it was true. He could tell he wasn't going to love her, not the way he should love his wife. If she came with him to London, she would have no one else. But he knew he wouldn't be able to trust her, not completely. Not after what Laura had done to his heart. It wasn't fair, for either of them.

"Why?" she asked, curling into his side even though it seemed like she was finally accepting that he wouldn't be her husband. Harry sighed, bringing an arm up to rub her back soothingly and opting not to answer. They sat there in silence for a while. Harry's arm was just falling asleep when he realised that so was his new wife. Cringing at that thought, he tucked her in and finished collecting the last of his things. Thankfully, it sounded like no one else had come home yet, and so he slipped out into the night, not daring to look back.


	2. Chad

"Harry!" came Scorpius' greeting as Harry stepped into Draco's outer office once more. "You're back! Did you bring me a present?"

"I sure did," Harry said, producing the gift bag with the toy inside. Scorpius opened it excitedly, pulling out the plush reindeer and hugging it close.

"I love it!" he cried. "What is it?"

Harry laughed, even though seeing the toy reminded him of Camilla. Not that he had stopped thinking about her very much on his trip home. He'd sent Priscillia an owl from the international portkey station in Oslo, requesting the next possible appointment with Draco. He knew she'd never forgive him, but they needed to get divorced as soon as possible.

"It's a reindeer," Harry explained. "They have lots of reindeer over there."

"Really?" Scorpius' eyes widened. "Did you get to pet one? Did you meet Santa?"

Harry shook his head. "I didn't get too close to them, but someone I met there said she got to meet them once." His heart twinged a little bit as he remembered Camilla's story about seeing a reindeer in the forest once, when she'd gone camping with her Pappa.

"Harry. How was your trip?" Harry looked up to see Draco stepping out of his office.

"Um, it was interesting," Harry mumbled, but at that moment, Scorpius piped up.

"Look Papa! Harry got me a reindeer plushie! He said his friend got to pet a real live one! A real live reindeer, Papa!" Draco smiled down at his son, but the smile was replaced with a frown as Scorpius continued.

"Did you get anything for Papa, Harry?" Scorpius asked.

"Scorpius, did you say thank you for your new toy? Harry didn't have to get us anything, it was really nice of him to bring that for you."

"I brought you liquorice chocolates, actually," Harry said, handing the neatly wrapped box to Draco. "They're considered a delicacy there."

He'd picked them up at the portkey station, realising that if the love spoons were for marriage proposals, he'd better not give one to Draco. He'd still given them to Hermione and Ron, which led to them having a hearty laugh at his expense about the mess he'd gone and gotten himself into, but didn't think he was close enough to Draco for that.

"Oh, that's kind of you, Harry," Draco said, accepting the chocolates and smiling at Harry. "Don't tell me you booked an appointment just to bring us gifts?"

"Um, no," Harry said sheepishly. "I actually need your help."

"With what? Has Laura contacted you again?"

Harry shook his head. "Could we maybe talk... in private?" he mumbled.

"Oh, of course, yes. Come in."

They settled down in Draco's office, Draco opening the box of chocolates and offering one to Harry before popping one in his own mouth. He moaned happily, and Harry tried very hard not to think about why that sound made him feel... something.

"Okay, what's the problem?" Draco asked, popping another chocolate into his mouth and sitting up straight.

"So, um, while I was away... I may have... um, accidenallygotmarried?" he mumbled, scrubbing his hand across his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

Harry sighed, summoning all his courage and blurting "I accidentally got married!"

Draco stared at him for a full ten seconds before he burst out laughing.

"Oh, that's a good one," he chuckled, helping himself to yet another chocolate. "Accidentally got married. Hah!"

Harry had been expecting this; Ron and Hermione had also thought he was pulling their legs at first. With a sigh, he powered on.

"I'm not joking. Apparently I did some kind of ritual proposal for a girl I had met in the village, and her family organised a wedding and took me to it. I didn't know what was going on until after it had all finished."

"You're serious?" Draco whispered, stunned. Harry had barely nodded when Draco burst out laughing even harder this time.

"Oh Merlin, this is a new level of stupid, even for you! How did you go through the whole wedding without even knowing what was happening?"

"No one seemed to speak English!" Harry said defensively. "I thought it was some kind of prayer ceremony, they were being so nice!"

Draco sighed, scrubbing at his face before considering Harry again.

"Did you sleep with her?"

Shocked by the abrupt question, Harry shook his head.

"Did you sign anything?"

Harry thought back, but couldn't remember signing anything other than his hotel bill.

"Did you show them your papers? Things like your travel visa, portkey license, anything like that?"

"No, but I was staying at their house so I don't know if they might have taken them anyway."

Draco nodded. "And this is the most important part; were you magically bonded?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. I don't remember anyone placing any kind of magic on me."

"Okay. I'll need her contact information; floo address, owl address, and the apparition coordinates for her house. Does she have any assets?"

"Yeah, her family runs a toy shop. I actually bought Scorpius' reindeer from her. That's how we met."

Draco frowned at him for a moment.

"You don't want anything from her, and vice versa, right?"

Harry sighed. "I don't want anything from her, but she was pretty upset when I left. I don't know if she'll agree easily to a divorce."

Draco considered him for a moment.

"If she asks for something, money for example, are you willing to give it to her, or do you want me to fight it?"

Harry slouched in his seat. "I don't want to upset her more or make this difficult. But I barely knew her for a couple of weeks. I'd rather not have to give her my entire Gringotts account if it can be helped."

"Okay. Let me see what I can do, I'll keep you updated."

"Thanks, Draco," Harry said, getting up from his seat and shaking his hand. "This is the second time you're saving my arse."

Draco gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, and it's also the second time I'm going to charge you enough to be able to buy Scorpius a top of the line racing broom for his birthday."

Harry laughed at that as well, waving goodbye to Draco, and then to Scorpius and Priscillia, before stepping out into the sunshine in Diagon Alley. For the first time in over a month, he wasn't thinking of Camilla.

* * *

"Well, the good news is that according to the Norwegian Ministry, you're not actually married."

Harry's eyes widened. "But she said that we were married! They had a huge party—it lasted a whole day!"

Draco nodded. "You had a ceremony at their church, and a party to celebrate, because according to their religious beliefs, you and Camilla got married. In their eyes, you both are as good as husband and wife. To have that marriage recognised by their ministry, however, they would have had to complete a fair amount of documentation, especially since you're English. From what I gather, they were planning to do that at their own pace after the ceremony. To them, that didn't matter much. In fact, I'm willing to bet that if they hadn't planned to make you a co-owner of their shop, they wouldn't have bothered with the legal aspect at all."

"They wanted me to be co-owner of their shop?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"Yeah. I told them you weren't interested."

"I'm not. It's just... that's a lot of trust to put in a man they barely know."

Draco shrugged. "I don't question people's motives. Now, Camilla said she understands your situation, and luckily their church community believes in the dissolution of marriages. It's not a very traditional church community, I was hard put to find some of the necessary information. The point though, is that she's agreed to a 'divorce'. Of course, since you weren't legally married, it's not a legal divorce, but this will stop her from trying to come after you and claim that you used her or some such nonsense."

Harry nodded, trying to absorb all the information. He didn't know if everything Draco was saying made complete sense, but he'd gotten the important part; she was okay with the divorce.

"She has a condition though."

"Oh no. What is it?"

"It actually makes a fair amount of sense. She wants you to pay for her to go to University for two years. She said that once news gets out that you two aren't married anymore, her community will gossip a lot about it, and she said she wouldn't be able to handle it. She wants to go away until it dies down, and for her, that means going to university."

Harry nodded. Her reasoning made sense, and he was the first one to relate to wanting to get away because everyone was gossiping about you. If she knew it was going to be difficult in her small village, he was really glad she hadn't actually come back to London with him. She would never have been able to stand the publicity that surrounded him.

"That's fair. I'm happy to pay for that."

Draco nodded, pulling out a few sheets of parchment.

"She wanted it in writing. I've drawn up a contract for you, stating that you will pay all the related fees for her to attend the University of Oslo, and in exchange, her minister will perform the marriage dissolution. You don't have to go back for it—just sign and you'll be rid of her for good."

"Was she really mad at me?" Harry asked quietly, staring at the contract. Draco shook his head.

"She seemed more sad than anything. Though I think seeing Scorpius play with her toys cheered her up a bit."

Harry bit his lip. He wondered if she knew that the reindeer he'd purchased from her on that first day had been for Scorpius. He wondered if she'd expected them to have kids of their own.

"If you sent a letter, I don't think she'd burn it," Draco said carefully. "I can include it in the envelope with the contract if you want."

Harry thought for a moment, then nodded. Draco handed him a sheet of parchment and a quill, and he started to write. Twenty minutes later, and with a fair amount of help from Draco, he had written what seemed to be a suitable apology letter to Camilla. He handed it over, along with the now signed contract, and Draco sealed it in an envelope labelled "Express Portkey Mail".

"Well, that's it then," Draco said, standing up. Harry did the same, and together they walked out into the outer office.

"Do you still need help decorating your new apartment, Harry?" Scorpius asked when he spotted them. Surprised, Harry shook his head.

"I haven't started yet."

"Can I help?" Scorpius asked excitedly. "I can come over and see it and then draw a plan for you!"

Draco groaned.

"Scorpius, you can't just invite yourself over to people's houses! I'm sure Harry will want to decorate in his own style."

"I actually won't have time to decorate before I leave again," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"Where are you going?" Scorpius frowned.

"I'm going on vacation again," Harry said cheerfully.

"Ooh, to Noway? It was really pretty when we went last week, but it was cold, and we didn't see any reindeer. Why are you going back?" Scorpius asked. It took a great deal of willpower not to laugh at the kid's mistake in pronouncing the country's name.

"No, I'm not going back. This time, I'm going to Chad. Apparently it's very hot there, and it's in the desert, so there's lots of sand."

Scorpius wrinkled his nose. "I don't really like sand. It got in my shoes when we were at the beach and it was all itchy."

Harry laughed. "Well then I'll make sure not to bring any back for you."

Scorpius nodded. "That's a good idea."

"Well, have a good trip, Harry," Draco said purposefully, clearly trying to prevent Scorpius from asking anymore embarrassing questions.

"Don't get married by accident," Draco added under his breath. Harry sighed, but smiled all the same. He was sure that this trip would be perfectly normal.

* * *

Harry's travel agent had told him it would be hot. He'd warned him to brush up on his extra strength sun repelling charms and to bring only light clothes. But nothing could have prepared Harry for _ this. _

He had barely stepped out of the confines of the air conditioned airport for a minute—keeping his eyes peeled for a sign with his name on it that indicated his host was here to pick him up—yet he was already drenched in sweat. He was tempted to point his wand down his throat and cast an aguamenti, despite Flitwick's repeated warnings all throughout his Hogwarts years to never point your wand at yourself, especially down your throat.

Finally, he spotted the sign, held by a small but muscular man in a white shirt and linen pants. He made his way over, pointing at the sign, then at himself.

"I'm Harry," he said, holding out his hand. The man smiled and shook his hand.

"I'm Hassan," he said confidently. "Come, let's go."

Hassan led him to a small white car, where Harry tossed his rucksack into the back seat and sat down in the front seat. He was surprised to find a steering wheel in front of him, and to hear Hassan laughing from outside the car.

"I think you are used to driving on the wrong side of the road?" he said as Harry got out of the car. "We are not driving on the same side as wizards in England."

"Actually, most wizards in England don't know how to drive," Harry said conversationally, sitting down on the right side and feeling rather odd. "Usually only muggles drive."

"Muggles?" Hassan asked curiously, clearly not recognising the word.

"Um, people who don't know magic," Harry explained, realising they must have a different word for them here.

"Ah, les moldus. Most people here speak French, not English, so we say in French. Moldus."

"Mal-dues," Harry tried. Hassan shrugged and nodded, which Harry took to mean good enough.

Harry sat back and simply enjoyed the view, taking the opportunity to ask his host questions as they occurred to him. As they drove, Hassan explained to Harry that the magical and muggle community were not as segregated here as they were in most other countries. While the muggles, or moldus as Hassan insisted on calling them, were not quite aware of the existence of magic, they didn't follow all the guidelines of the international statute of secrecy.

"For example, we still play sports with them. Many witches and wizards in Chad enjoy football and traditional wrestling. The confederation of wizards told youngsters not to participate in the sports with moldus, because they worried that they would cheat with magic. But it is commonly accepted that magic is not to be used while playing games here. The only magical game is duelling, but it is not popular."

Harry nodded along, intrigued. He hadn't played football since he was a little kid at primary school, and even then Dudley and his gang had often made sure that Harry got as little playing time as possible. Perhaps he could try it here?

"I'd like to try football," Harry told him. "I haven't played since I was a child, though, so I know I'll be terrible at it."

Hassan looked stunned at that.

"Really? What sport do you play?"

"Quidditch," Harry responded.

"Ah yes, I hear about it. With flying. You're not scared of flying?"

Harry shook his head. "I love it. Do people not fly here?"

Hassan shook his head. "It is not common. We prefer to drive, or walk." He gestured out the window, and Harry turned to look. There were quite a few people out and about, walking along the streets. Harry was intrigued by the landscape. Where he was used to green grass along all the road sides, here the ground was mostly dirt, with a scattering of trees here and there.

Eventually they pulled up to a small house. The outside walls were all painted yellow, and the door and window frames were all white. There were thick nets over all the windows, which Harry presumed were for the mosquitoes that his travel healer had warned him about. He'd brought a mosquito repelling potion, but was glad for the extra protection.

Hassan's house was small but comfortable. The front was an open plan kitchen, dining room and living room all in one. It was tastefully decorated and neat, and thankfully nice and cold. Hassan clearly had the air conditioning running. No wonder Harry's travel agent has said this man was a highly recommended host in the area. He showed Harry to his bedroom, which was one of two in the back portion of the house. It was cheerfully decorated- the walls were painted a similar warm yellow to the outside of the house, and the bedclothes were colourfully patterned. The furniture was all made of the same solid wood, but the best part of the room was the view. There was a lovely floor to ceiling window, framed by thick lavender curtains, which looked out onto an adorable little patio and a flourishing yard. Harry counted three large trees with different types of fruits growing on them, and numerous smaller plants around the perimeter of the yard.

The other room in the back of the house was clearly Hassan's, but with the door closed, Harry couldn't tell what it looked like. Once Harry had deposited his things in the room and freshened up, he met his host in the front of the house.

"Here." Harry was handed a cool steel bottle of water, and drank gratefully.

"Are you good at water charms?"

Harry nodded, gulping at the cold liquid.

"Good. Keep that bottle, it has a cooling charm on it. Just refill it when you need it. Do not accept water from les moldus, it is not always purified. Foreigners like you get sick like that."

"Thank you. You have a lovely house."

Hassan beamed with pride at that. He invited Harry to have a seat on the sofa, and they got to talking about local attractions, and what things Harry wanted to do.

"I saw an advertisement for something called the Gherewol festival," Harry said. "What is that?"

"It's a competition between men. Mostly to be the most beautiful, but they also sing and dance, and do lots of other small competitions like camel racing. You want to participate?"

Harry shook his head sheepishly.

"I don't think I would win any beauty competitions," he sighed. "I've always been a very scruffy kind of guy."

Hassan sat down next to him. "I think you look very good," he said reassuringly. "You are tall, and have very white teeth. Those are very important here. But anyway, it is fun, even if you are not the most beautiful man there."

"Um, I don't think that's right for me," Harry said quickly. "What about this?" he said, grabbing at another random flyer out of the collection Hassan had put together for him. His host gave him a searching look, before turning his attention to whatever Harry was showing him. Harry wasn't sure what it was for, but as Hassan started explaining which museums were most popular, Harry forgot all about it.

* * *

The first week and a half of Harry's trip was fabulous. He spent his days out and about with Hassan, visiting tourist attractions but also experiencing the local day-to-day life. Harry loved the bustling heat of the city, especially the outdoor markets. Hassan was surprisingly patient with him as he browsed through the stalls, especially considering that everyone around them seemed to be incredibly rushed. He examined dried herbs and spices, beautiful textiles, fresh fruits, potions ingredients and kits, and even a wide selection of toys. The bright creations reminded him a little warily of Camilla, but he pushed on, thinking instead of Scorpius, and how much he'd enjoy the multicoloured kite Harry had bought for him. Harry couldn't help the smile on his face as he imagined Draco and Scorpius running about in a park, pulling on the string of the kite as it flew higher and higher. Knowing Draco, Harry was sure he'd probably use a few subtle spells to get it as high as it could go.

Harry also found himself drawn to the beautiful textiles in the market. He found himself purchasing many brightly coloured scarves for all his friends, and a beautiful beaded purse for Hermione. While Harry was happy to pay full price for everything, Hassan proved to be a big help in haggling with the vendors, especially since Harry found himself buying so many things.

Harry was rearranging all these purchases in his suitcase one evening, when Hassan knocked on the door.

"You should be getting to sleep soon. Tomorrow will be a big day."

"What are we doing tomorrow?" Harry asked curiously. They hadn't planned much of an itinerary beyond today, but Harry had assumed that by now he would have seen all the big attractions and would have a better idea of how he wanted to spend his remaining week and a half here.

"I am taking you to participate in the Gherewol."

"You... what? I thought I said I didn't want to go."

"Your mouth said those words, but I don't think your heart means it. You are not feeling good about your looks. Participating in the festival will, I think, make you feel more confident. Performing with the others, participating in competitions, and ceremonies, all this will show you that you are a good man."

Harry bit his lip. He had definitely become fast friends with Hassan over the course of his stay here, and it was showing with the way this man cared for him. Harry thought of his own friends from back home, and how they all did similar things to help him with his self-esteem. They kept telling him that he was very harsh on himself, but Harry couldn't help thinking that something must be wrong with him, especially after the whole mess with Laura. He'd lost track of how many times he'd broken down crying in Ron and Hermione's living room, or in Draco's office because he just felt so worthless sometimes.

Harry looked up at Hassan, who looked so genuinely excited at the thought of bringing Harry to the festival. It did sound like fun, and it must be a great cultural experience. He figured dressing up and dancing, and _ camel racing _ would at least make great memories and hilarious stories for him to take home. He smiled at his host, who was waiting eagerly for his answer.

"Okay. I'll do it."

* * *

It was a long drive to get there. While Harry did fall asleep for a lot of it, Hassan did manage to explain to him that this festival was a part of the culture for the Wodabbe Fula people. Harry listened attentively as Hassan explained their history, and how the tribes often migrated based on the changing climate zones around the country.

They stopped in a small town where they purchased richly embroidered ceremonial robes and bright coloured makeup for Harry. They also picked up a selection of feathers and beads, which Hassan explained were all necessary items for the contest. He then introduced Harry to his friend, Daneri, who was a member of the tribe and therefore privy to their secret meeting place. Daneri didn’t speak a lot of English, so Hassan spent the rest of the ride translating as they discussed the Yaake ritual, which would be happening that afternoon.

“Their beauty ideals are very different from what you must be used to back in Britain,” Hassan explained. “During the Yaake, they roll their eyes, and smile very widely, to show off that their eyes and teeth are very white. They also use the makeup to make their eyebrows look wide, and their noses long.”

Daneri mumbled something, clearly deep in concentration. He and Harry were sitting in the back of the car while Daneri did his makeup. They’d explained that traditionally men spent the whole morning getting ready, but that they wouldn’t arrive on time for any of that.

“Daneri says you already have very good eyebrows,” Hassan pointed out. Harry felt a sense of relief at that. Back home, he’d always been conscious of his noticeably bushy eyebrows—it was nice to have them to be considered favourable for once.

As soon as they arrived, Harry was sucked into a whirlwind of activity. He was introduced to a group of eldery people, whom he assumed must be the tribe’s leaders, and then shoved into a line with other men dressed similarly to him. Hassan was right that this wasn’t the same image of beauty Harry had been raised with, but it was hard to miss how proud these men were of the work they’d put into their appearances. Every one of them, while sharing similar traits, had their own unique touches, such as a differently placed string of beads, or handmade scarves and hats in beautiful, vibrant colours.

Before he knew it, the Yaake had started, and all the men were chanting and clapping, lifting up on to the balls of their feet and then back down rhythmically. Daneri had explained that the movement with the feet was to emphasize height, and it wasn’t long before Harry realised that he was easily the shortest man in the line, though he was also considerably more muscular than most of the others.

Though Harry didn’t have a hope in the world of being able to follow the chanting, he mimicked the movements and facial expressions of the others. He’d been instructed to smile widely to show off his teeth. While it was awkward and a little tiring to hold his mouth open for so long, Harry found that the constant smiling was boosting his mood. It felt a little silly, but it was also fun and happy, and just made him want to smile even more.

It wasn’t long before the scorching heat of the sun overhead became too much for him though. Giving up on the ritual for the time being, he wandered past a gaggle of girls who were all watching him carefully, toward where Hassan and Daneri were sitting under the shade of a large tree. He was about a foot away when he felt the effects of a strong cooling charm. Hassan had warned him that Daneri was the only wizard in the tribe, and that they had to be careful about using magic around the others. Harry wasn’t complaining though. He couldn’t help worrying that if they were going to be spending a lot more time in the heat, he might actually faint. Though considering the strength of Hassan’s cooling charms, maybe not.

Dinner was a loud and cheerful affair that night, and Harry and Hassan left soon after, driving another hour to a small town where Hassan had rented a room in a house. The rest of the tribe had set up tents for the night, but Hassan had taken it upon himself to assume that Harry wasn’t used to roughing it. It wasn’t true, Harry thought as he remembered that fateful year of camping during their horcrux hunt, but decided not to mention it, if the alternative was a decent bed among four sturdy walls, complete with air conditioning.

The next few days were repeated in a similar way, though now that the Yaake was over, Harry found himself being invited to participate in various games and competitions, clearly designed to showcase the men’s intelligence and strength. Harry had been pleased to find that he could generally keep up with many of the puzzles that were offered, since he’d often wondered is everything he’d accomplished in life was the result of luck. 

He also fared well enough in a lot of the physical races. While he wasn’t used to running on sand, he’d mostly been able to keep up with the other guys, many of whom were much taller than him and therefore had longer legs. The real curveball, however, had been the camel racing. Harry had been terrified at first, when the tall creatures had walked up to him, but as Daneri showed him the different commands the camel had been taught and how to hold himself up, sitting between the neck and the hump, Harry started to realise that this wasn’t much different from having ridden buckbeak, or the thestrals, or even a dragon (though he couldn’t imagine anyone ever putting a harness on a dragon). Shaking his head at the ridiculous things he’d done in his school years, he set off, bouncing on the camel’s back as he followed the others.

It wasn’t long before he found that he was really enjoying himself. The camels moved fast enough, and were tall enough as well, that if he closed his eyes (which he quickly found out was not a smart thing to do) it almost felt like he was taking a leisurely fly on a broom. He found himself wondering when exactly the last time was that he’d been on a broom. It felt like it had been ages. As they returned to the main camp, he was still thinking about what had now become a resolution to start flying again when he returned home. He’d had the brilliant idea of inviting Draco and Scorpius, and was still imagining teaching the young boy to fly, when the sound of a commotion reached his ears. He looked around and was surprised to see Daneri arguing with one of the tribe’s elders. He had just taken in the scene, when he felt a hand on his shoulders.

“It is time for us to go, Harry,” Hassan said urgently, guiding him to where they had parked the car. They had just closed the door when the shouting seemed to get louder. Harry craned his neck to see the elder who had been arguing with Daneri storming toward the car, a young girl following behind him.

Muttering under his breath, Hassan started up the car and drove off, not daring to look back. Harry gave him about ten minutes, to make sure they had gotten far enough away, before he started asking questions.

“What just happened?” he demanded. Hassan grimaced, ignoring Harry’s question as he took a steep curve. Harry was nothing if not persistent, however, and he knew it was going to be a long drive. There was no way Hassan could ignore his question forever.

“Traditionally, the Gerewhol is also considered a matchmaking ceremony,” Hassan admitted. “Daneri and I, we thought it had been clear that you weren’t there for a bride, but just to participate in the culture. It seems that one of the girls did not understand that, however, and has chosen you as her husband.”

“But we didn’t actually get married, right? There was no ceremony or anything,” Harry questioned. Hassan worried his lip, which in turn worried Harry.

“Hassan, tell me I’m right.”

Hassan shook his head. “The Wodaabe tribe doesn’t do big ceremonies for individual marriages, the way many other cultures do. If a woman chose you during Yaake, in their eyes, you are married.”

Harry threw his head back with a groan, summoning all his willpower not to start yelling and swearing right there. This _ couldn’t _ be happening again. Not to him! Merlin, what was wrong with him?

Harry didn’t sleep on the ride back to Hassan’s house - his mind was reeling with everything that had happened in their last few hours before leaving the tribe behind. He couldn’t help worrying that he’d really made a mess of things this time. Would they be okay with Harry just leaving and getting divorced from that woman? Merlin, he didn’t even know her name! He knew logically that there was no way they could force him to go back and live with her, but if she wouldn’t agree to divorce him, he might never be able to marry anyone else!

Not that he really wanted to at this point. Having three marriages under his belt felt like more than enough to last him for the rest of his life. Even if none of them had really worked out. Staring out at the dusty roads, he felt a bit of a pang in his heart at the thought that it seemed he was destined to be alone for the rest of his life. He thought back to his previous idea of teaching Scorpius to fly -- while he was sure it would be a wonderful experience, he would have loved to have children to call his own. Borrowing his friend’s son for an afternoon or two didn’t really compare.

As soon as they got back to the city, Harry announced that he was going to leave on the next flight out. Hassan didn’t argue, and so it was with a heavy heart that Harry packed up his things. The ride to the airport was as silent as the ride back from the festival had been, but when the time finally came for the two men to part ways, Hassan pulled Harry in for a hug.

“Take care Harry. I’m sorry there was so much confusion at the end of your trip, but I hope you enjoyed the rest of it.”

“I did,” Harry assured him. “I’m definitely going back as a changed man.” He grinned at Hassan, and was relieved when his host laughed at the joke. A changed man was definitely one way to put it.

“I’ve put together a few papers for you,” Hassan said, handing Harry a folder. “I put my contact information and the information I have about the Wodaabe tribe in there, it might help you and your lawyer. I’m guessing you do not want to stay married?”

Harry shook his head urgently. Hassan nodded in agreement. “I do not think they will give you any trouble once everything is explained, but if you still need help, I would be happy to offer my assistance.”

“Thanks, Hassan,” Harry said, taking the folder and offering him a relieved smile. “I really appreciate the help.”

With one last hug goodbye, Harry made his way into the airport, paid for the next flight to London and settled into the lounge to wait. The flight was uneventful, and he managed to sleep through most of it, his worries about his new marriage having been eased a bit by what Hassan said. He’d made it all the way home, unpacked, and even sent an owl to Priscillia requesting another appointment, before one of his biggest worries finally hit him in the face:

How on earth was he going to tell Draco about this one? Merlin, he was screwed.


	3. Vegas: Part 1

“You didn’t,” Draco groaned, as Harry sat down in his office yet again, the stack of papers Hassan had compiled for him in hand.

“Um… it depends what you’re talking about,” Harry said meekly, hoping that feigning ignorance might help. It didn’t.

“Harry, how is it that wherever you travel, you manage to get married! That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

Harry gave him a look of mock affront. “Can’t I just want to visit my good friend and tell him about my trip?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at that. “You consider me a ‘good friend’?” he asked, sounding surprised.

“Of course I do,” Harry replied easily. “I know we mostly meet because I keep needing to get divorced, but getting to know you over the past year or so has been nice. You’re very different from the bully I knew at school, and I enjoy chatting with you.”

Draco didn’t respond right away, and Harry worried for a moment that he may have upset him with talk of their school days. Suddenly, Draco leaned back in his chair crossed his arms comfortably and smirked.

“Well then, _ good friend, _ how was your trip?”

“Um, it was interesting,” Harry offered uncertainly. He couldn’t quite tell if Draco was mocking him.

“Really? What made it so interesting?”

“Well, the culture there is very different. Did you know they don’t even fly? They mostly play muggle sports and use muggle transportation.” Harry took a moment to lament the fact that he hadn’t gotten to play football after all. Maybe there was something to be said for joining a group here instead. “And the lifestyle is really different too, people have to be really careful because of how hot it is. I probably spent most of the trip just renewing my sun protection charms.”

Draco winced at that. “I hate sun charms. I always have to place so many of them on Scorpius and I anytime there’s so much as a few rays of sun. Something about our genetics makes us burn really easily.”

“No wonder you guys are so pale,” Harry teased. He was glad to see Draco smile at that, though it didn’t last long.

“So, are you going to tell me about what actually happened on your vacation or are we going to continue beating about the bush for another ten minutes?” 

Harry worried his lip. He knew he had to be honest with Draco, but this was embarrassing.

“My host convinced me to participate in what he described as a male beauty contest.”

“A what?”

“I… it was a traditional event that he said would be a great experience. So I went with it. But he forgot to tell me that it was usually used as a matchmaking thing, or his friend who was guiding us forgot to tell the tribe leaders that I wasn’t actually on the market for a bride. Long story short, one of the girls apparently liked me, and she and her family were very disappointed when I left without her.”

“Because she thought you were going to marry her?” Draco asked uncertainly. Harry shook his head, feeling glum.

“Because, in their culture, when she picked me as her favourite contestant, that somehow married us. Everyone was surprised that she picked me at all because I don’t fit a lot of their beauty standards, but my host, Hassan, said he had thought it was just for fun.”

Draco was staring out the window and didn’t say anything more. Not wanting to interrupt his thoughts, Harry waited quietly.

“Very well. You’ll have to give me all of this man’s contact information. Hassan, was it?” 

Harry nodded and handed over the folder.

“It might take a little longer for me to resolve this one,” Draco added, accepting the papers Harry gave him. “I won’t be able to take Scorpius to such a hot place, so I’ll have to beg my mother to watch him for a bit. I’ll be a bit delayed in leaving.”

“If your mother isn’t able to watch him I could help out. It’s the least I could do, considering it’s my fault you’re going all the way there in the first place.”

Draco smiled at him, and for a moment Harry lost track of the conversation.

“That’s sweet of you, Harry, but I wouldn’t wish that on you. Scorpius, bless him, can be a handful, and since I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, it’ll probably be better for someone who really knows him to stay with him.”

That did make sense, but Harry couldn’t help feeling a little guilty about it all the same. They spent a few more minutes discussing details and catching up on the less shocking parts of Harry’s trip. All too soon, the two men were standing and Draco was holding the door open for him.

“Thank you again, Draco, I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Draco smiled. “I’m happy to help, Harry.”

Harry nodded, shoving his hands in his pocket, where he felt something odd. With a start, he realised it was the kite he’d brought for Scorpius. He’d shrunken it and put it in his pocket, but since Scorpius wasn’t in the office today, he’d completely forgotten about it until now.

“Oh, I got this on my trip, for Scorpius. I almost forgot it was in my pocket.” He pulled the colourful kite out and enlarged it, before handing it to Draco, whose smile had grown even wider.

“This is lovely, Harry. He’s going to be so excited to receive it. Thank you.”

Harry wished he could give it to Scorpius in person, just to see the excitement on his face, but he found he didn’t mind the idea of Draco telling him all about it either.

“I’ll let you know when I get back, and we can pick up our discussion there,” Draco offered. “I’ll see you later, Harry.”

* * *

Harry spent the following week wandering around his empty new apartment, trying to figure out how to fill it up. He had never really developped his own personal style. After the war, he’d been living between the Burrow and Grimmauld place, until he’d married Laura and they’d bought their London townhouse. He’d entrusted all the decorating to her then, and as a result, he’d never had the chance to figure out exactly what _ he _ liked. 

He wandered all the home decoration stores in his area (mostly muggle, since he was still being hounded by the press in wizarding establishments) looking for ideas. He walked through multiple display areas, all of which looked comfortable and inviting, but none of which really _ called _ to him. Funnily enough, the displays he loved the most were the ones for children’s bedrooms, or kitchens and bathrooms adapted to suit families. He knew it was irrational of him to like those styles—he was a bachelor (or at least he would be once Draco returned) and he should be exploring sleek, modern and practical styles. Most of the sales people showed him rich blues, deep browns and warm reds. 

It was overwhelming, to say the least, and so it was with great relief that he returned to Draco’s office at the end of the week, having received an owl that his lawyer had returned and would like to speak with him.

“Harry! Thank you for the kite!” Scorpius called as Harry walked into the waiting room. Harry’s mood instantly brightened at the sight of him.

“You’re welcome. Did you get to fly it?”

Scorpius nodded happily. “It went higher than the Manor! Grandma had to magic more string for it to keep going up!”

“That’s so cool! Did you have a good time with your grandma this week?”

“Yeah! Grandma always lets me have more cookies than Papa does, and she lets me go to bed later too.”

“No wonder you didn’t want to wake up this morning,” Draco sighed. Harry looked up to find him leaning against the door to his office, looking exhausted. “Scorpius, I’m going to borrow Harry for a few minutes, and then you can continue talking his ear off.” Harry couldn’t help grinning at the fondness that always came through whenever Draco exaggerated about his son. He followed Draco into his office and watched as he collapsed into his chair.

“I’m guessing from your appearance that things did not go well?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Actually, in terms of your wedding, everything worked out quite easily. Your friend, Hassan, had already been working on the whole thing for you.”

“Really?” Harry was incredibly surprised to hear that, but relieved as well. “How did he do that?”

“The woman who picked you from that festival, I found out that her name is Zare. It turns out she picked you because she assumed you would take her back to the city with you. Apparently conditions have been getting more and more difficult for the tribe recently, and certain members have been seriously considering leaving their rural lifestyle and going to the city. She wanted to do the same, but her parents refused, and she didn’t think it was safe for her to go alone.”

“Oh no,” Harry groaned. “I hope it didn’t cause problems for them.”

Draco hesitated. “I don’t think her parents thought what happened was the ideal option, but it happened anyway. Your friend and his contact in the tribe helped her sneak away and travel to the city, where she was taken in by a grassroots organisation that works to empower women to be independent. They’re teaching her a few skills to make her employable and setting her up with businesses around the city that might want to hire her.”

“That sounds… incredible, actually. Hassan helped her with all this?”

“Yeah. The most unexpected part of this whole story, however, is that she’s started liking Hassan, and he likes her back. They’ve already started dating, and he told me he thinks she might be the one for him.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He stared at Draco, waiting for him to laugh and claim that he’d been pulling Harry’s leg, but when he didn’t, a little bubble of laughter errupted from Harry anyway.

“That’s… Merlin, I don’t know what that is but… oh my. I guess I’m glad for him.” 

“He asked me to give you this note,” Draco said, handing Harry a folded sheet of paper. Still smiling, Harry opened it to find a short but heartfelt message.

> Harry,
> 
> I am sure by now that your lawyer has told you the whole story of why Zare picked you at the Gerewhol. You presented to her an opportunity she would not get anywhere else. I understand it was unfair to expect you to actually provide that opportunity to her, so Daneri and I helped her out. Your lawyer may have also told you that Zare and I are now involved with each other, and are quickly falling in love.
> 
> Harry, I hope you don’t worry about the confusion you experienced here. Everything has, thankfully, resolved itself. However, I also don’t want you to worry about why Zare picked you. I know you’ve been told it was an opportunity for her to change her life, and that you weren’t the man for her. But that shouldn’t impact your self esteem. I know you are hard on yourself, and I want to remind you that you are a beautiful man, both inside and out. You need to trust yourself and have faith that things will work out, because I am sure they will. You deserve good things, and they will come to you.
> 
> Stay strong, my friend.
> 
> -Hassan

Harry looked up at Draco with tears in his eyes, and he could tell from Draco’s gentle expression that he knew exactly what the letter said.

“We got to talk about you a bit,” Draco explained gently. “I couldn’t help telling him about a bit of your past, and it became a rather emotional experience. I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t my place, but—”

Harry cut him off with a gentle wave of his hand. As nice as he had been, Harry didn’t plan on remaining in contact with Hassan. He didn’t really mind what the man thought of him.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I often end up crying in your office,” he mumbled, wiping his eyes hastily on his sleeve.

“It’s more common than you’d think,” Draco said, offering him a silk handkerchief. “And that’s not a bad thing. We’re all human, and we’re allowed to feel strong emotions, especially when we’ve suffered.”

“I wouldn’t say I really suffered here,” Harry pointed out. “I barely knew Zare. Hell, I didn’t even know her name until you told me just now.”

“You may not have lost a relationship with her, but it’s still significant. You were still fresh from dealing with Laura’s betrayal when you got involved with Camilla, and then you were just fresh out of that heartbreak when you got married to Zare. You weren’t given the time to heal.”

Harry was stunned. He’d never quite thought of it that way. No wonder he’d been feeling out of sorts this past week.

“It feels like no matter how much time I give myself, there’s always someone else waiting to take advantage of my fame, or my money, or some other social benefit that I can offer them, without a care in the world for _ me _. It was like that during the war too, people pretending to care left, right, and center so that they could manipulate me into doing things for them.”

“That’s awful, Harry.”

“It hurts to have to recognise that I’m not worth knowing.”

“That’s not true. There’s a five-year-old sitting in that outer office who talks about you all the time, and not because you’ve bought him a couple of presents. I already spoil him rotten; he has all the toys in the world. No, what’s special about you is that you care enough about him to stop and talk with him, and in doing so you show him the respect and dignity that most adults never do, either because of his age or because of his family. And if the word of that five-year-old isn’t enough, I happen to know that his father will also vouch for the fact that you’re a very good friend to have, and completely worth knowing.”

The determination in Draco’s voice went a long way towards making Harry feel a bit better. He wiped his face again, casting a quick cleaning charm over the handkerchief before handing it back to Draco with a mumbled thanks.

“So, I’m guessing it would be näive of me to assume you’re going to be in town for a while?” Draco asked, as they both got up and made their way toward the door.

“I have one more trip planned,” Harry admitted as he opened the door to the outer office.

“Really? Where are you going this time, Harry?” Scorpius piped up, clearly excited to see them emerge.

“I’m going to America,” Harry said happily. “Where the national language is English, and there can’t be any miscommunications.”

Draco gave him a knowing smile, understanding immediately why the country would appeal to Harry so much. There was no way he could accidentally get married in a country where the customs were so similar to theirs, and where everyone spoke English. Scorpius, not knowing that Harry had been married and divorced three times now, didn’t get the joke, though.

“Why do you care about that?” he asked. “You should go somewhere that has dragons.” To illustrate his point, Scorpius raised his arms, and shaping his fingers into claws, let out a bellowing roar.

“That’s a brilliant idea, Scorpius. Maybe I should see if there are any dragons in America?”

“If you find them, can you bring me back one? Papa says we can’t keep a dragon at home, but I’m sure he’d say yes if you brought it.”

“Well, dragons are very big. It might be too heavy for me to carry. But I promise I’ll try,” Harry vowed, placing his hand over his heart to show the boy how serious he was.

“If you bring back a dragon, you can fly back on it, instead of taking a muggle air-oh-plain,” Scorpius suggested wisely, clearly unaware that the logistics of flying on a dragon were highly flawed. “Papa went on a air-oh-plain this week, and he didn’t like it at all. He got really sick.”

Harry looked up at Draco in concern. Harry had flown in a plane as well, since there was a ban on portkeys in the region, but it hadn’t affected him at all—he’d simply slept through the entire trip. He felt terrible that Draco had suffered through that for him.

“It was an experience,” Draco admitted. “One that I hope never to repeat. But please don’t feel bad that I did it, I was just doing my job.”

Harry bit his lip, but didn’t argue. He knew by now that arguing with Draco about his job was fruitless. Instead, he turned to his son.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take a portkey so that I don’t get sick.”

“Good idea,” Scorpius said approvingly. Harry turned to shake Draco’s hand.

“Thanks for your help, again. I’ll let you know when I get back from America?”

“Yes, please do. Have a safe trip, Harry.”

* * *

A few days later, Harry set out bright and early in the morning, catching the first portkey to Las Vegas. He hadn’t originally planned to start his travels there, but there had been a sale on portkey tickets and he’d decided to take advantage of it. Since America was such a big country, and he planned to see as much of it as he could, he’d decided to be a little frugal on his trip. Of course he could afford to do the entire trip first class if he wanted to, but the travel agent had assured him that staying in a hostel was an experience in itself, and that he’d meet fellow travellers that way.

It didn’t take Harry long to become friends with all of his neighbours in the hostel he’d chosen. They all seemed to be enamoured by his accent, especially the girls. Harry kept a safe distance from them, his last three disastrous trips in mind. Thankfully, despite the difference in accents, there was pretty much no communication barrier. They spent the entire first morning he was there teaching Harry how to count out Dragots, Spinks and muggle dollars. If Harry had thought that Galleons, sickles and knuts were odd, it was nothing compared to American currency. It turned out that wizards in America accepted muggle currency as part of their own, and Harry was constantly having to convert first from Galleons to Dragots, and then from Dragots to dollars. 

They had then invited Harry to have lunch with them, and he’d soon realised that even though he was only 25 years old, he was probably the oldest person in the group. That didn’t stop them from inviting him _ everywhere _ though, and Harry soon found himself out partying every night. He hoped it was just because they were in Las Vegas, a city known for its partying, and that moving on to San Francisco, and eventually across the country to New York city, he’d be able to take advantage of more touristy options that wouldn’t cost him dozens of galleons in hangover potions.

“Harry! Wake up!”

Harry groaned and rolled over in bed, pulling his pillow over his head to drown out the knocking on his door.

“Go away!” he moaned. He had thought he’d been responsible last night and not drunk too much, but the pounding in his head said otherwise. Unfortunately, the knocking continued.

“We’re going for lunch!” came a voice that Harry recognized as Bryan. Bryan was his next door neighbour in the hostel, but he was from somewhere near New York city, and much more familiar with the customs here. Apparently he was also much better at holding his alcohol than Harry, because he was usually the one dragging Harry back to the hostel and getting him into bed whenever the others convinced him to get absolutely sloshed. 

“Lunch?” Harry called back, confused. It was early morning, why would everyone be going for lunch. With a groan, he groped around on the bedside table for his watch, only to gasp in shock as he realised that Bryan was actually making sense. It was almost 1:00 PM. Merlin, how had he slept so late?

He waved his wand at the door to let Bryan in, before stumbling out of bed and looking for his clothes. Bryan sauntered in, already dressed and looking alert, and plopped himself down on the edge of Harry’s bed.

“Well look who’s finally awake,” Bryan teased. Harry spared a moment to glare at him, before reaching into his rucksack for his stash of the coveted hangover potion. He downed a portion and stood up straight, his head finally clearing as the potion coursed through his veins.

“Did I really sleep until one?” Harry croaked, his throat still dry. Bryan laughed.

“Apparently you did. Though considering how many shots Linda convinced you to do last night, I’m not surprised.”

Ah, shots. He’d seen a few people do them on occasion at a couple of the clubs he’d frequented in London, but they weren’t a popular concept for British witches and wizards. American folk, however, _ loved _doing shots, regardless of whether they could perform magic or not. He’d been warned that it was a very quick way to get drunk, and had therefore avoided it for the past few days. But last night, he’d been feeling brave, and agreed to join Linda for one. Unfortunately, one turned into two, and then three, and… well, Harry didn’t remember what happened after that, but he was sure it must have been painful.

“After you passed out, we just let you sleep in the booth while the rest of us kept dancing,” Bryan explained, when Harry pointed this fact out. “Don’t worry about it though, we all know you’re not used to partying so hard. But now, you gotta go get dressed, we’re going to participate in another partying ritual, eating away the hangover.”

Just then, Harry’s stomach grumbled, causing both boys to laugh. He was definitely ready for some food, and trooped off to the common bathroom for a quick shower, and to get dressed. Bryan was still sitting on his bed when he got back, reading a sheet of paper (that had been another adjustment for Harry. He remembered paper from his primary school, but these days, he was so used to parchment that the light material felt rather odd in his hands).

“What’s that?” Harry asked casually as he put his things back in his bag.

“You sure do keep your room neat for a guy,” Bryan pointed out, and Harry was surprised to notice he was blushing.

“That’s a big stereotype, assuming that only girls are neat, and all just to avoid my question. Who is that letter from?”

“It’s not a stereotype when you grew up in a dorm with six other guys,” Bryan laughed. “At that point, it’s proof. Most guys are a mess, I don’t know how I can be so attracted to them.”

That made Harry chuckle. “Are you saying you’re not a mess?” he teased.

“My room is almost as clean as yours!” Bryan pointed out. “And at least I don’t sleep until one in the afternoon every day.”

“I did it one day!” Harry groaned. They continued to tease each other as Harry locked his room and they made their way to the main entrance to meet everyone else.

“Harry! You’re alive!” Joel called, eliciting a smattering of laughter from the group.

“Yeah, no thanks to Linda,” he groused, though the smile he offered her conveyed that he wasn’t actually mad.

“Ha! It’s not my fault you’re too old for shots!” she jeered back.

“I’m not old!” Harry cried, turning to Bryan. “I can’t be that much older than you guys!”

Bryan shrugged. “I guess not. How old are you again, 23?”

“25,” Harry replied carefully. He glanced around to find all his new friends staring at him with wide eyes.

“Man, you are old,” Jackie chuckled, causing everyone else to laugh. “Why did we all think you were 23?”

“How old are you guys then?” Harry demanded. “I know you three graduated recently, so you can’t be more than 20, but the rest?”

“I think I’m the oldest, aside from you, and I’m 22,” Jackie said apologetically. “But we’re all just teasing, you do know that, right? It doesn’t really matter how old you are.”

Harry smiled at her. “Of course I know. Anyway, I don’t think I would have been any better at partying when I was 22 either, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. They stood around for another moment, before Harry’s stomach rumbled again.

“So I heard there was a plan to get food?” he asked sheepishly.

“Yeah, Carol found a really cheap buffet out on the strip! We figured we’d try it for lunch.”

“Well then, lead the way.”

Two hours later, Harry found himself slumped in his chair at the tacky restaurant, regretting every decision he’d made that had led him to this point. He was _ stuffed. _

“Ready for dessert?” Bryan asked, pushing away what must have been his sixth plate and standing up eagerly. Harry felt like throwing up just at the thought of more food, but everyone else seemed equally eager to attack the rows of cakes, ice cream, pies and various other sweets. 

“How can you guys eat so much?” he moaned. “I’m absolutely stuffed!”

“That’s what she said,” Jackie sang, and everyone else snickered. It took Harry a moment to realise how his comment could have sounded dirty, and he couldn’t help joining into the laughter. As everyone else trooped off to help themselves to dessert, he took a moment to wonder if he and his friends had ever been so immature. He figured they would have been, if there hadn’t been a war to fight.

“What are you thinking about?” Bryan asked, sitting back down next to Harry, a large plate in his hands. Harry eyed what looked like a waffle topped with four scoops of ice cream, two slices of mousse cake, a bunch of fruits, five swirls of whipped cream, and what looked like an entire tonne of sprinkles. There were also three slices of pie on the side of his plate.

“I’m thinking about how much of a loss the restaurant must be going into if it feeds people like you every day,” Harry sighed. 

“They’re fine,” Linda said, sitting down with an equally large plate of dessert. “They recuperate their profits from wimps like you who barely eat anything.”

“I ate three whole plates!” Harry pointed out. 

“The quality of the food is probably also rubbish. I’m sure Grandpa here will be sick tomorrow from something he ate here.”

“Did you just call me Grandpa?” Harry demanded playfully. 

“Here, try this,” Bryan said suddenly, shoving a spoonful of mousse in front of him. “It’s really light, you’ll enjoy it.”

Harry stared warily at the spoon, before finally leaning in and accepting the bite. He was surprised to find that Bryan was right. The cake was light, melting in his mouth with a sweet, chocolatey flavour.

“Oh, that’s good,” Harry admitted. Pleased, Bryan kept offering him bites of it in between inhaling all the ice cream he’d selected. Harry couldn’t help noticing that it was a rather intimate thing to do, but considering how delicious the cake was, he couldn’t be arsed. The kids probably didn’t care anyway; he’d seen them offering each other bites of their food throughout his trip, as if it was a totally normal thing to do between friends. After all, what did he know about being normal?

He was still thinking about his youth, and how different it could have been, when they were walking around after lunch, trying to work off all the food they’d consumed. Since it was too hot in the afternoon sun to walk outside for a long stretch, they kept ducking into hotels they passed, admiring the elaborate decorations and entertaining themes. While most of the group was taking pictures of all the sights, Harry was happy to just hang back and enjoy the view.

“What’s on your mind?” Bryan asked, sitting down next to Harry on the edge of a fountain at their third hotel. Everyone else was taking pictures of brighty lit orbs hanging from the ceiling, but clearly Bryan had no interest in that.

“I’m just being melancholy,” Harry shrugged. “I didn’t exactly have a normal life, growing up. I guess watching you guys is just making me wonder how things could have been different.”

“Why didn’t you have a normal life?” Bryan asked curiously. Harry hesitated, not sure how much he wanted his new friend to know.

“Um, there was a war, in Britain. It technically went on for decades, but it got really heated while I was in school. A lot of us ended up fighting in it. When you’re trying to make sure you and your friends don’t get murdered, partying and having fun tends to take a back seat.”

“Oh man, I heard about that. Our history professor mentioned it at school one day, and there was a bit about it in the papers too. Apparently it was a teenager who finally ended everything?”

Harry fought back a laugh. He wasn’t quite a teenager anymore.

“So is that why you’re travelling now? Trying to catch up on experiences you missed?”

Harry nodded. “In a way, yeah. I also just needed a break from home. I just got out of a really messy divorce.”

Shit. He hadn’t meant to tell anyone that he had already been married _ and _divorced. They already thought he was old. At least he hadn’t told him that it had happened three times.

“Aw, that’s rough. I’m sorry to hear that,” Bryan said tactfully, though somehow, he didn’t sound very sorry at all. He patted Harry on the back, but he didn’t lower his hand afterwards, instead resting it on Harry’s shoulder.

“There was no love lost between us,” Harry said bitterly. He tried to change the subject.

“How about you? Who sent you that love letter?”

Bryan groaned. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

Harry shook his head, grinning wickedly. “Come on, tell me. Did you find the one neat guy in all of America and scoop him up?”

He was glad to hear Bryan laugh at that. 

“If you really must know… it was a letter from my mom. Happy? I’m 21, and I still get mail from my parents, checking on me while I travel the country.” He seemed embarrassed about his admission, but Harry didn’t see anything wrong with that. He would _ love _ to get a letter from his parents.

“I think that’s really great,” Harry said gently. “I find people tend to take their parents for granted.” 

“You sound like you have a really sad story about your parents. Did you fall out with them or something?”

“They died,” Harry said bluntly. “When I was one. They were killed in the war.”

Bryan was silent for just long enough that Harry felt guilty for putting a damper on what was supposed to be a fun afternoon. Then, the arm on his shoulder tightened, and pulled him into a sideways hug.

“I’m sorry man, that’s rough. Sounds like you really did have a shit childhood.”

Harry nodded. “It’s okay. Like you said, I’m here to experience the fun things I couldn’t do before. So let’s get going, instead of sitting here and exchanging sad stories.”

Bryan grinned, grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him along to join the others. As the afternoon wore on into evening, Harry found himself enjoying his trip and his new friends more and more. They danced with a bunch of impersonators, watched a light show in a giant pool at yet another fancy hotel, and as usual, rounded out the night in yet another club.

It was a new club, right out on the strip. It seemed like they had arrived at the same time as everyone else in the city; the crowd was huge, and Harry found himself holding on to Bryan’s hand as they made their way, first to the bar, and then to the table, just so that he wouldn’t get lost. It wasn’t long before they were all a few drinks in, and suggestions of dancing started cropping up. Linda and Carol were the first ones up, followed closely by Jackie. Bit by bit the group disappeared into the throng of people, until only Joel, Bryan and Harry were left at the table.

“Come on, let’s go join everyone!” Joel called. Without waiting for a reply, he downed his drink and stood up, wandering out into the crowd and quickly attaching himself to a girl they’d never seen before, but who seemed quite pleased with the attention nonetheless.

“Should we join them?” Bryan asked casually. Harry stared carefully out at the crowd. While he usually avoided crowds like the plague, no one knew him here, and he could be as anonymous as he wanted. He turned back to Bryan, only to find his friend standing next to him with his hand held out.

"Come on," he said, giving Harry a look that... oh. Blushing furiously, now that he understood what Bryan wanted, Harry took his hand and allowed himself to be led out onto the dance floor. He was being oddly bold, but that was probably because of the alcohol and his loosened inhibitions. They found a small gap in the crowd and squeezed into it, pressed up close to each other. Harry could feel every single one of Bryan's movements as their chests and their hips moved together. The music continued to pound around them, but Harry found himself getting lost in the feeling of the hand on his hip, or the other one on his back. He looked up into Bryan's eyes and was stunned to see a heat that he felt reflected in his own heart.

"Harry," Bryan said. Harry couldn't actually hear it, but he watched as those lips formed the syllables, soft and red. He had a sudden urge to kiss this man who'd been such a wonderful friend to him over the past few days. He wondered when the last time he'd kissed someone had been. He thought about it for a few beats, and realised it must have been Camilla. Merlin, that felt like a lifetime ago now.

Bryan was still mouthing something at him, and Harry had to squint through the darkness to make out what he was saying. It still wasn't clear, so Harry leaned in, hoping he'd be able to hear. It seemed Bryan had other ideas though, because as soon as Harry leaned closer, Bryan tightened his hold on Harry's back, and kissed him.


	4. Vegas : Part 2

Something was poking Harry in the ribs. He tried to shove it away, but his arms felt like they were being held down by leaded weights. He cracked an eye open, and immediately regretted it. Bright light flooded under his eyelid, which he snapped shut with a groan.

So it must have been morning. As his senses slowly came back to him, Harry noticed that the bed underneath him was unusually soft. This wasn't the hostel bed.

As alarming as that realisation was, the next one was even worse—the thing poking him in the ribs was a limb. A human limb. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes again, squinting against the bright light streaming in from the window. He turned his head ever so slowly, wondering who on earth he'd slept with. If waking up in a strange bed with a strange person had been a shock, it was nothing compared to the shock of realising that that person was Bryan. 

He still seemed to be sleeping, so Harry closed his eyes and lay back against the soft bed, trying desperately to remember the events of the previous night. They'd been at the club, dancing sinfully close to each other, and then Bryan had kissed him. After someone had yelled at them to "get a room", they'd both made their way over to the bar, and snogged some more. Harry also remembered ordering more drinks, but that was where his memory started failing him.

Opening his eyes again, Harry glanced around at the blurry room. With an enormous effort, he turned over to where he assumed there would be a bedside table and groped about for his glasses. When he found them a moment later and put them on, he was surprised to find that they were in a hotel room. It was very nicely decorated if a bit sparse, and that explained why the bed was so soft. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself up and sat back against the head board, vaguely noting the telltale ache in his arse that told him he'd been thoroughly fucked the night before. All his movement must have woken Bryan, who groaned.

"Wha' time izzit?" he groaned. Harry glanced around for a clock.

"It's almost noon," he said, once again surprised he'd slept so late.

"Harry?" Bryan said in surprise. He turned over to look up at Harry.

"Who did you think I was?" Harry asked, a little hurt that he wasn't who Bryan had been hoping for.

"I dunno. I just never thought I had a chance with you," Bryan sighed. "Good to know I was wrong."

Harry couldn't help smiling at that, relieved that Bryan actually did want him. He knew they couldn't have anything very permanent, since Harry would have to go back to the UK eventually, but it would have been very awkward for their friendship to have had sex but not actually wanted it.

"Where are we?"

"I'm guessing a hotel?" Harry said, looking around again. "I don't know how we got here though."

"We were probably too drunk or too horny to go all the way back to the hostel," Bryan said sagely, still squinting up at Harry. "Probably the latter."

They both laughed at that, and Bryan finally sat up as well. Harry was suddenly quite aware of the fact that they were both stark naked, and he couldn't help glancing at Bryan's body in interest.

"Like what you see?" he smirked, clearly eyeing Harry up as well. Harry blushed, looking up to meet Bryan's eyes.

"Very much," he said shyly.

"That war really got to you, eh?" Bryan asked, leaning carefully forward and touching the scar the horecrux had made on his chest all those years ago. Harry was inexplicably reminded of the scars he must have left on Draco after the incident in 6th year.

"It... yeah. It got to all of us. Um, how about we try to find some breakfast? I doubt we'll have any hangover potion here."

"This looks like a pretty nice hotel," Bryan mused. "The nicer ones usually have common potions at the reception desk, and complimentary breakfast. I can go down and ask if you want?"

"Yes please," Harry sighed, relieved that everything seemed so easy. He grabbed an unfamiliar pair of pants from the corner of the bed and tossed them to Bryan. His friend—boyfriend? lover?—stood up and put them on. Harry watched as he made his way around the bed, and then flinched as Bryan slipped on something and crashed onto the bed.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked urgently. Bryan nodded, sitting up carefully and reaching down for the paper. He picked it up, and Harry could see that it was some kind of certificate.

"Holy shit," Bryan gasped, looking at the paper in horror.

"What?" Harry demanded, scooting forward on the bed even though his stomach was turning. He pushed up against Bryan, leaning on his back to read over his shoulder.

_ Nevada Marriage Certificate _

Fuck. Hoping against hope, Harry glanced down at the names on the certificate, but he was out of luck. There, in clear printed letters, were the names Harry Potter and Bryan Anderson, and today's date. He wasn't sure if it was the excessive amounts of alcohol, or the questionable buffet from lunch the day before, or the fear that he'd never be able to travel without getting married again, but Harry suddenly leaned over the bed and threw up all over the ground. When he was finally sure his stomach was done emptying itself, he sat back up, groping around for his wand and vanishing the evidence and casting an air freshening charm.

"We got married?" 

"Crap, mom's gonna flip, this was the one thing I promised her I wouldn't do here," Bryan cried. "Fuck, Harry, I can't be married! I'm only twenty-one!"

"How did we even...? I don't even remember... huh?" Harry was stunned. The whole point of coming to America was to pick an English speaking country so that he wouldn't get married by accident. And yet...

"It's a thing here, you can get married at pretty much any chapel on the street. People come here to elope all the time," Bryan explained. "It's one of the things Vegas is famous for. I just don't know what we're gonna do now."

"I... I'll call my lawyer. I'm sure he can help us out with this."

Harry stood on unsteady feet and made his way over to the small porta-floo the hotel provided. Eternally grateful they'd ended up in a wizarding hotel, and moodily ignoring the warning message of additional charges for international calls, he flooed Draco's office.

"Oh, hello Harry," Draco greeted him. "Are you back already?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'm still in America. I need your help."

Draco opened his mouth as if he was going to ask, when his face changed suddenly.

"You didn't," he said slowly. Harry looked up at him guiltily, and could tell from the look on his face that Draco knew exactly what he'd done.

"Harry, this is the fourth time! Merlin, let me guess, you're in Vegas, aren't you?"

Harry nodded dumbly. "How did you know?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Vegas is a classic case of people getting hitched without thinking it through. I should have known to warn you about it."

Harry sighed. "Well, it's done, and I'm married, for the fourth time now. Are you able to help me with the fourth divorce?"

Draco sighed, glancing at his desk before turning back to Harry.

"Yeah, just give me an hour to get Scorpius packed up, and we'll take an emergency portkey over."

After giving Draco the details of the hotel, which he'd found on a flyer on the coffee table, Harry ended the call and turned back to Bryan, who was still sitting on the bed, staring at the paper.

"Hey, you okay?" Harry asked. He seemed to have calmed down a bit, but Harry didn't want to make assumptions.

"Your name looks familiar," Bryan said slowly.

"I should hope so, you've been using it for over a week now," Harry pointed out, confused.

"No, I meant your last name. Why does it... Potter, Potter..."

Harry bit his lip. Bryan grew up in New York. He couldn't possibly know...

"Oh my god!" he suddenly cried. "You're that guy! The one who ended that war! Harry, you're a hero!"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep calm. He hoped Bryan would still want a divorce now that he knew Harry was famous.

"Is this really important right now?" Harry asked weakly. "Draco said he'd be here in an hour or so, maybe we can get dressed and try to find some food before he comes."

"Woah, don't just change the topic," Bryan insisted. "Harry, you won the war."

"So?" Harry challenged, feeling upset that Bryan was acting like a fan instead of a friend. "Why do you care? You were across the ocean!"

"Harry, that's an amazing accomplishment. You should be proud of yourself! You helped so many people, and you did it so selflessly."

Harry opened his mouth to argue when Bryan's words sunk in. _ He should be proud of himself. _ He stood there, gaping at the man, trying to think of when he had last felt proud of something he'd done. It had definitely been a while.

"I... I guess I never thought of it that way," he said slowly. "People are always fawning over me, acting as if I'm some kind of god when really I was just a kid who got lucky, and it gets pretty fucking annoying, so I usually try to avoid being recognised for that."

"I've heard people say that celebrity is a curse... I guess this is what they mean by it?"

Harry nodded, surprised that Bryan was being so understanding. He couldn't shake the feeling that if they'd taken the time to get to know each other first, and done it properly, he would probably have been glad to marry a guy like Bryan. 

"Okay, your idea of finding food before your lawyer gets here is getting appealing," Bryan said after a moment. "Maybe we could, um, share the shower? You know, to save time and such."

Harry chuckled. It was an appealing suggestion, and if Draco was going to be here in an hour, they really did need to maximize their time. The shower proved to be big enough for both of them to comfortably take turns sucking each other off and then wash each others' backs. After a few cleaning charms made the previous night's clothes wearable again, they trooped downstairs to the reception desk, where a young wizard showed them the dining room and gave them both hangover and mouth freshening potions. Just as they were turning away from the desk, something caught Harry's eye. 

"Are those meeting rooms available?" he asked, pointing at the glass panelled rooms just off the lobby.

"They generally need to be reserved in advance, and there is a fee to book them, but the group who was using them today cancelled at the last minute. Would you like to reserve it?"

Five minutes later, they were sitting in leather chairs in the boardroom eating a catered lunch that had been prepared for a group who was never going to show up. The hotel had given Harry a huge discount, since the room and food was already paid for by the other group, and as he had been signing the rental contract, he'd also remembered to book a room for Draco and Scorpius, and to leave a message for them to join him in the boardroom.

"Harry!" came an excited voice as he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, and he turned to find a grinning Scorpius running through the door. Laughing, he bent down and scooped the little boy up in his arms, giving him a tight hug.

"Hello Harry," Draco greeted as he stepped into the room behind his son. "And you are?"

Bryan stood up and shook Draco's hand.

"Bryan Anderson. Thank you for coming to help us."

"Draco Malfoy. And this is my son. Scorpius, please say hello."

"Hello. I'm Scorpius. Are you Harry's friend?"

"He sure is, just like you," Harry said, when Bryan gave him a worried glance.

"Yay, we can be friends too!"

"My goodness Harry, you got a boardroom and catering just for our meeting?" Draco asked, finally realising where they were. 

"The people who were supposed to use it cancelled at the last minute, so I figured we may as well. Probably a lot more comfortable than all four of us trying to balance on a hotel bed, and I didn't want to sit in the public restaurant and discuss this."

Draco nodded, taking a seat next to Harry. Scorpius declared that he was going to sit with his "new friend" and ran around the table to clamber up next to Bryan. Harry had to hold back a laugh; Bryan looked incredibly out of his depth dealing with a five year old child. As Draco pulled a bunch of documents and a quill out of his briefcase, Harry made up a plate for Scorpius, who was quick to detail the exact specifications of what type of sandwich and which toppings he liked best.

"What about you, Draco?" Harry asked, grabbing another plate.

"Hmm?"

Harry looked up to find Draco scrutinising the marriage certificate and comparing it to some notes he'd laid out. He wasn't paying attention to Harry at all.

"Draco, why don't you eat first? It must have been a long trip, you don't have to throw yourself into work right away."

"Papa likes roast beef sandwiches," Scorpius said helpfully, causing Draco to finally look up from his papers.

"Sorry. American law is very different from British law, it's going to take me a little while to figure out what you guys did and how to reverse it."

"I'm not in a rush," Harry shrugged. "Are you?" he asked Bryan.

Bryan merely shrugged. Harry couldn't help wondering why he was being so quiet all of a sudden. Still pondering the question, he gave Draco his plate and then sat down next to him. He was still a little sore from the night before, having forgotten to cast a healing charm after his shower, and winced lightly. Thankfully Scorpius was too engrossed with his sandwich to notice, but Draco picked up on it right away.

"What's wrong, are you okay?"

Harry nodded, blushing furiously.

"Just a little.. ah, sore," he mumbled. Bryan also blushed at that, and Draco's confused expression twisted into one of horror.

"Oh no. Please don't tell me you consummated your marriage?"

"What's commated, Papa?" Scorpius asked curiously. Bryan made a strangled noise at that and turned even more red.

"Getting an annulment, which is what I had hoped we could do, is going to get a lot more difficult if you did," Draco explained, ignoring his son. "It would be fine if you were muggles, but wizarding law here is even more antiquated and strict, and this is a wizarding marriage certificate."

"Marriage certificate? Did you get married, Harry?" Scorpius asked, eyes wide. 

"Scorpius, darling, I need you to please sit quietly right now," Draco said sternly. Scorpius nodded and turned his attention back to his sandwich.

"Okay, so we'll have to submit a formal statement to the courts to dissolve the marriage. We can start with your address," Draco added, pushing one of the notepads provided by the hotel and a self inking quill toward Bryan. Bryan picked up the quill clumsily—clearly, he was the type of guy who used pens - and scratched out his address. His handwriting wasn't very neat—Draco actually squinted at the page for a moment, before frowning again.

"You live in New York?" Draco asked, sounding annoyed. "Oh, that's going to be a whole different process. Though it might not matter anymore if the marriage was consummated or not."

"What's comummated?" Scorpius asked again. Draco groaned, turning toward his son once more.

"Scorpius, I told you—"

"Draco," Harry interrupted. "Why don't Scorpius and I go do something fun while you and Bryan figure things out? You have all my information anyway, I trust you to represent me, and that way Scorpius won't be sitting here getting bored all afternoon."

Draco bit his lip, staring at his son who was now beaming at the idea of spending the afternoon doing fun things with Harry.

"I promise he'll be completely safe with me," Harry insisted. 

"Can we go swimming?" Scorpius asked. "It's really hot here, and when it's hot, you're supposed to go swimming."

"Scorpius, we didn't bring your trunks," Draco sighed. Harry, however, stood up.

"I'm sure the hotel has a gift shop where I can get him some. I'll need a pair too. What do you say Scorp? Lets go check out the hotel's pool."

Scorpius jumped up excitedly, running around the table to stand next to Harry. 

"Scorpius, behave yourself," Draco reminded his son, who was shaking with excitement again.

"Will you be okay here?" Harry asked Bryan, who nodded shakily. Harry stared at him a moment longer, but decided to let it go. Bryan was an adult who could use his voice if something was bothering him. Putting it out of his mind, Harry took Scorpius’ hand and led him out to the hotel’s gift shop. They spent a little while picking out colourful trunks and flip flops, before making their way down to the enormous pool. 

“There’s a water slide!” Scorpius screamed, tugging Harry towards it. “Harry we have to go on it!”

“Okay, okay!” Harry laughed, allowing himself to be led to the stairs leading to the top. It was a long climb, but they finally made it to the landing where a lifeguard was waiting at the top of the slide.

“How old are you buddy?” the lifeguard asked, peering at Scorpius. Scorpius puffed out his chest, announcing proudly that he was five years and seven months old. Harry couldn’t help smiling at that, though the smile quickly disappeared when he realised the lifeguard was biting his lip.

“Please tell me he’s not too young,” Harry said worriedly. “He’s so excited.”

“If you think he can handle it, then I’ll allow it,” the lifeguard finally decided. “However, you’ll need to go back down and wait at the bottom to catch him.”

Harry groaned as he thought about having to climb all the way back down those steps, but realised he was happy to do it for Scorpius, who was trying to peer over the railing to see the whole slide.

“You can go down the slide first instead of taking the stairs,” the lifeguard suggested. “That way you can show him the right way to do it too.”

Harry nodded, sitting down at the top of the slide and crossing his arms the way the poster instructed.

“Watch carefully, Scorp. You have to do it the way I do it so that you don’t get hurt. I’ll go first, and wait to catch you at the bottom.”

“Okay, Harry!” Scorpius cried happily, shaking with excitement once again. With one last wave, Harry shifted his hips and allowed himself to slip down the wet plastic.

It was a thrilling ride, though it reminded him a bit of the Chamber of Secrets. All too soon, Harry splashed into the pool, spluttering for a minute before he managed to right himself. He found that he could just stand with his chin above the water, and understood why the lifeguard wouldn’t want Scorpius to reach the bottom on his own. He glanced up at the platform and waved at the lifeguard, indicating that he was ready to catch Scorpius. With a nod, the lifeguard gave Scorpius, who was already seated and ready to go, a little push, and off he went. He screamed the whole way down, before splashing into the water right next to Harry. Harry reached out and grabbed hold of him, lifting him quickly out of the water. He was alarmed to see Scorpius coughing and spluttering.

“Are you okay, Scorp?” he asked, holding the small boy close and patting his back. Scorpius coughed a few more ties before pulling back and nodding happily.

“That was so much fun!” Scorpius laughed, before starting to cough again. “Can I go again?”

“Are you sure you want to? You’re coughing a lot!”

Scorpius nodded. “I’ll remember to take a deep breath before I hit the water this time!” he promised. Satisfied, Harry towed him to the edge of the pool, promising to wait at the bottom of the slide again. A minute later, Scorpius came splashing back into his arms, and this time he was coughing a lot less. They repeated the process over and over, Scorpius never tiring of the slide and Harry never tiring of humouring him. He must have been on his fiftieth trip down the plastic tube when Draco walked up to the edge of the pool, right in time to get soaked by the splash of his son hitting the water.

“Papa! Oh no, you’re wet, but you’re not wearing trunks!” Scorpius called, trying to paddle himself out of Harry’s arms and over to his father. Trying his best not to laugh at Draco’s expression, Harry towed Scorpius back to the deck and helped him climb up next to his father.

“It’s not a big deal, Scorpius, I’ll use a drying charm later. Are you having fun?”

“Yeah! Harry let me go on the water slide again, and again, and again, and again!”

“Really?” Draco asked, glancing at Harry.

“He’s been at it for so long the lifeguards have already rotated three times,” Harry chuckled, pulling himself out of the pool. He noticed Draco glancing at his bare chest, and couldn’t help feeling a little self conscious about his body. 

“Papa, come swimming with us!” Scorpius cried excitedly. Draco contemplated his son’s request, and Harry found himself secretly hoping he’d say yes. Draco looked up at him and Harry couldn’t help raising an eyebrow, as if to say “Scared, Malfoy?”.

Draco snorted before telling Scorpius that yes, he’d go buy a pair of trunks and join them in the pool. Predictably enough, he returned five minutes later in a pair of forest green swim trunks that left very little to the imagination. Harry didn’t even realise he was staring, until Scorpius splashed him.

“Harry! Why did you stop moving the boat?” Scorpius whined. He was sitting on top of a large float which Harry had been towing around, pretending he was the captain of a ship. 

“Um, I thought we should wait for your Papa to board before we continue,” he said, pointing at Draco, who was now wading toward them.

“Papa! Look at me, I’m the captain of the ship!” Scorpius called out. Draco smiled at him.

“And where is this ship headed, if I may ask?” he drawled.

“To Hogwarts!” Scorpius exclaimed. “Wait,” he added with a frown. “Can you sail to Hogwarts?”

Draco nodded. “There’s a lake near the castle. But there’s also a giant squid in the lake, and if you’re not careful, he might reach onto your boat and snatch your passengers!” Draco teased, snaking a hand up the side of the floating and tickling Scorpius’ foot. Scorpius squealed in delight and turned to Harry.

“Faster, Harry! We can’t let the squid catch us!”

“Yes, sir!” Harry called, grinning as he started tugging the floatie along again. Scorpius turned to watch in anticipation as his father dove under the floatie, reappearing on different sides each time and reaching up to tickle his son. To retaliate, Harry kept tugging the float in different directions, making Scorpius squeal each time they made a sharp turn.

They continued to have fun together throughout the afternoon, moving on from "sailing" to swimming races, and eventually back to the slide, before the three of them flopped down onto the reclined beach chairs along the deck to relax and dry off in the sun. Scorpius kept chattering happily, telling Harry about Priscillia's new kneazle that he got to play with last weekend, and about the cool uniform Draco had bought for him for the charms academy he would be attending next month. The excitement was starting to wear off though, and both men could see that he was getting tired. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep under the warm sun.

"Thank you for taking care of him today," Draco said, smiling fondly at his son. "I know he can be a handful, and I really appreciate it."

"Draco. You've been portkeying all over the world for me, to deal with my mistakes. You literally dropped everything to come here right away. The least I could do was watch your son. Anyway, he wasn't a handful, I had fun today."

Draco turned the fond smile toward Harry.

"I guess I should tell you that all the work is done for your... what is this, fourth divorce?"

Harry groaned—he was never going to hear the end of this, from anyone.

"Thankfully it was quite easy, Bryan didn't want anything from you and I assumed you don't want anything from him. We've filed the papers, and it's going to take about a week for them to go through. You'll have to stay in the country until then, but it doesn't necessarily have to be in Vegas. He said he was returning to the hostel he has been staying. The poor kid just seemed relieved that his mother wasn't going to find out about this whole affair."

"Thank you for this, Draco. If it wasn't for you I'd probably still be stuck with Laura, let alone all the other marriages I’ve ended up in since then."

Draco stared at him for a moment.

"Harry, do you think you're subconsciously getting yourself into these situations? Is there a part of you that just desperately wants to be married?"

Harry sighed. He'd been thinking about that a lot recently.

"Honestly, I don't even think it's the fact of being married that appeals to me so much as the idea of having a family. I guess I just always thought marriage would be the first step towards that."

"So you want kids?"

Harry nodded. "More than anything. I meant it when I said I really enjoyed spending the afternoon with Scorpius. And with you," he added, satisfied that his comment made Draco blush.

"I enjoyed it too," Draco said softly. They fell into silence for a bit, and Harry was just feeling himself dozing off when Draco spoke again.

"Do you mind if we use your room to get changed?" Draco asked softly. "I'd rather not portkey back across the Atlantic in nothing but swim trunks."

Harry turned to look at him, surprised. "Didn't the reception desk tell you I've booked a room for you both?"

Draco shook his head, also looking surprised now.

"Yeah, she said you have one a few doors down from mine. It should be keyed to your magical signature, so you can just go right up."

"Oh, well I... thank you, Harry, that was thoughtful of you. I guess I should get Scorpius upstairs and changed then."

Draco stood up and leaned over Scorpius, scooping his son gently into his arms. 

“Wait!” Harry called as he watched Draco walking away. He got up and ran over just as Draco turned to look at him in confusion.

“Stay,” Harry, begged. He hadn’t realised how much he enjoyed Draco and Scorpius’ company, but the thought of spending another week here without them wasn’t a nice one.

“Harry, if I don’t get him changed into warmer clothes, he’s going to catch a cold,” Draco pointed out.

“No, that’s not what I meant. Stay here, in America, with me. I was planning to go to San Francisco tomorrow, you should come with me.” 

Draco looked stunned. 

“You want us to join your vacation? But wasn’t the whole point of travelling to spend time on your own?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m never really alone on these trips. I always find someone to make friends with.”

“Or to marry,” Draco said with a smirk. Harry snorted. 

“Or to marry,” he conceded. “So, what do you say? Come with me to the coast?”

“Harry, I have to warn you that travelling with a five-year-old is very different to travelling with adults. Scorpius gets tired easily, and he’s quite picky about certain things.”

“I know,” Harry said quickly. “He hates sand, and he refuses to eat if different foods on his plate are touching each other. But those are part of what makes him unique, and I honestly love him for that.”

Draco smiled at that. “You know a lot about my son,” he pointed out. Harry nodded.

“I do. And if you’re okay with it, I’d like to get to know you too.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Draco shifted Scorpius in his arms.

“Very well, we’ll join you in San Francisco. I guess someone has to keep you from getting married, yet again.”

Harry burst out laughing at that, and Draco soon joined in. 

“Okay, I really do need to get upstairs, but how about we regroup for dinner in the main dining room?”

Harry nodded, still chuckling. Meeting at dinner would give him time to go back to the hostel and grab his stuff, too. He watched Draco and Scorpius disappear down the hall, before making his way up to his own room. He changed quickly and disapparated back to the hostel. Thankfully, all his stuff was mostly packed, so he was able to just grab his rucksack and go. He was just checking out at the front desk when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Harry! There you are!” He turned to find Jackie, along with Carol and Joel, walking over.

“Hey guys,” he greeted.

“Where have you been?” Carol demanded. “We were looking everywhere! We couldn’t find you or Bryan all night!”

Harry hesitated. Had they already put it together that he and Bryan had disappeared together?

“You two left together last night, didn’t you?” Joel said slyly. Harry blushed at that, but at that moment Bryan himself showed up, rucksack slung over his back as well.

“Wait, are you both leaving? Are you going together?” Carol asked, clearly excited at the love story she imagined must be unfolding between them.

Bryan shook his head furiously, clearly embarrassed by the notion. 

“No, a friend of mine brought his son over from London, so I’m going to spend the rest of my trip with them. We’re leaving for San Francisco tomorrow.”

“Ouch, sounds like you got cock-blocked, dude,” Joel said sympathetically to Bryan.

“No one asked you,” Bryan mumbled, turning to the counter and slamming his key down. Harry frowned at that.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. Bryan just shrugged, reaching over to sign the receipt the receptionist handed him.

“Could you guys give us a moment?” Harry asked, when Bryan was done at the counter. The other nodded and turned away.

“We’re all hanging out in the lounge,” Jackie offered. “Come and say bye before you leave!”

“We will,” Harry assured her, before gesturing toward a nearby sofa. He watched as Bryan marched over and slumped gracelessly onto the sofa.

“Hey, what’s got you so annoyed? You’ve been like this since this morning.”

Bryan was silent for a moment, but Harry decided to wait him out. He was rewarded a few minutes later, when Bryan finally spoke.

“I guess I just… I feel like an idiot. This morning when you said you were calling your lawyer, I still had this tiny hope that after the divorce we could still have something. I’m annoyed that I let myself fall for you.”

Harry worried his lip a bit, considering how to answer.

“Bryan, you know we couldn’t have had anything long term, right? I mean, I live in another country!”

Bryan nodded.

“I know. I was just hoping it could be less of a one night stand and more of a summer fling, especially when you mentioned you were planning to be in New York for a couple of weeks. I really like you, Harry, and I really wish I’d had a chance.”

“I really like you too, Bryan. I think we could have had a lot of fun in New York together.”

“But you’re not going to come anymore, are you? You’re going to go home with that posh lawyer and his adorable kid.”

Harry smiled—it really was a very accurate description for the Malfoys.

“I rather had the impression that you were uncomfortable with Scorpius.”

Thankfully Bryan smiled at that.

“I mean, I’m not used to kids, but the real problem was that it was obvious right from the start how much you love him. It didn’t take long to figure out that you feel pretty similarly about his dad, and that’s when I realised I really did have no chance with you.”

“What?” Harry demanded, stunned that Bryan would say such a thing. “I don’t have feelings for Draco! He’s just a friend, and my—”

“Harry,” Bryan interrupted. “I saw the way you were looking at him, and talking to him. You’re not the most subtle guy around.”

Harry sighed as he realised that Bryan was absolutely right. As soon as Draco and Scorpius had arrived, Harry’s attention had been focused almost entirely on them. 

“Okay, so maybe I’m a little obvious. It’s not like he feels the same or anything.”

This time Bryan really started laughing. He grabbed his bag and stood up.

“The man took an emergency portkey around the world with his son in tow to help you file a few papers that I’m sure he could have just mailed to us. The way he was talking about you, he really knows you, and he cares a lot too.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as he realised Bryan was right. Still laughing, Bryan dragged Harry to his feet and into the lounge, where they said their goodbyes to everyone, blushing and smiling mysteriously anytime someone tried to hint that they were leaving _ together _. It wasn’t true, but Harry found he didn’t mind the assumption. Bryan was a great guy, and if he ever found himself in New York, he’d definitely send him an owl. But for now, they were going their separate ways—Bryan was headed home, and Harry had a couple of Malfoys to escort around San Francisco.


	5. San Francisco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate, dragons, muggle contraptions and tender discussions.

“Okay, here we are, rooms 1125 and 1126,” Harry announced, handing Draco his key. Draco nodded, sliding the key into the lock and opening the door to his and Scorpius’ room, while Harry did the same for his own. He waved goodbye to Scorpius and slipped into his room.

He had just taken off his shoes and taken in the beautiful suite, when he heard Scorpius’ voice from the other side of the wall.

“This room is so cool, Papa!” he exclaimed. “Look, there’s a whole dining room and a sitting room in here. What’s this black thing?” he asked, and Harry heard the hollow thump of someone knocking on a television.

“I believe that’s a muggle television, Scorpius,” came Draco’s reply, his voice much softer than his son’s.

“What’s that?” Scorpius called out, sounding confused. Harry smiled, certain he would be showing the Malfoys how to operate a television, among other technology, later on.

“Papa where does this door go? Hello, anyone home?” he called, knocking on the door that connected the two suites.

“Scorpius, stop that,” Draco admonished. “That’s the door that leads to Harry’s room, we don’t want to disturb him.” 

It seemed Scorpius had stopped listening once he’d heard Harry’s name though, because he started knocking incessantly and calling out “Harry! Harry, I’m here! Let me in, Harry!”

Laughing, Harry got up and opened the door, bracing himself just in time to catch Scorpius as he stumbled through it. He looked up to find a contrite looking Draco staring at the pair of them.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he said immediately. “We didn’t mean to bot—”

“Harry, look, we have muggle things in our room!” Scorpius interrupted excitedly. “Look, Papa said this is a— a—”

He turned to Draco, clearly unable to remember the word.

“Scorpius, you need to calm down. You just barged your way into Harry’s private room and now you won’t stop talking. I need you to take some deep breaths, sweetheart.”

Scorpius nodded, and extricating himself from Harry’s arms, he went and sat down on the sofa. Harry watched as Draco counted while Scorpius took deep breaths in and out. After a few breaths, Scorpius seemed to visibly calm down, and after a few more, he stood up and walked over to Harry again.

“Sorry I banged on your door,” Scorpius said to him, much more sedate now. 

“It’s alright,” Harry replied, giving Scorpius a big smile. “I’m glad our rooms are connected, so we can have fun together all week!”

Scorpius broke into a wide smile at that.

“That box is called a Telly,” Harry explained. “Muggles use it to watch movies and shows.”

“What are those?” Scorpius asked curiously.

“It’s like watching a play,” Harry tried. Draco snorted. 

“He’s never seen a play. Not a full one anyways. He talks too much, it disturbs everyone else.”

“Because I have questions!” Scorpius said defensively. 

“Well, you can ask as many questions as you want while watching the Telly,” Harry explained. “And the people on the Telly can’t hear you, only the people you’re watching with can.”

He led Scorpius over to the plush sofa and picked up the remote. The screen lit up to reveal a channel guide, and Harry quickly navigated to a kids station. Draco joined them on the sofa, and father and son both seemed captivated by the bright colours and the animated characters. Thankfully, the show was just starting, so they were able to understand the gist of the story. Since he hadn’t watched TV in quite a long time, Harry was unfortunately unable to answer most of Scorpius’ questions. When he found that no one really had the answers he wanted, Scorpius started focusing more on the show, and eventually the questions died down. 

Before they knew it the show was over, and another one was starting. Rather than animated humans, this show’s main characters seemed to be a group of birds. Before he could get drawn into the story, Harry stood up, and Draco followed him. 

“I don’t believe that’s a muggle device. It’s hypnotizing.”

“Muggles have some pretty inventive things, you know.”

“Well, maybe you can help me figure out what they are. What are all these?” he asked, pointing to the fridge, the microwave and the coffee maker.

“Open it,” Harry said, gesturing to the fridge. Draco did and immediately shivered. 

“It’s cold!” he said, surprised.

Harry nodded. “Instead of a pantry shelf with a cooling charm, they have this box that keeps food cold.”

Draco nodded and closed the fridge, opting instead to open the microwave.

“This one is just room temperature. Is it for storing room temperature foods?”

Harry smiled - it really was a clever assumption based on what he’d just said about the fridge.

“No, it’s for reheating food that’s gone cold but supposed to be eaten warm.”

“Where’s the heat?”

Harry reached out, closed the door and pressed a few buttons. The microwave whirred to life, and Draco watched in fascination as the table started turning.

“Usually one minute is enough for most foods,” Harry explained, pointing out the 1 minute button. Draco, who was still staring into the microwave, jumped when the light suddenly went off and the microwave started beeping.

“Merlin’s b—” he quickly stopped talking and glanced at Scorpius, but was satisfied to find his son still staring at the television. “These muggles are quite fond of noisy contraptions, aren’t they?” he asked, just as a loud honking came from the television, followed by the sound of Scorpius’ uproarious laughter.

“I guess they are,” Harry conceded. After showing Draco how to use the coffee machine, and producing two steaming mugs of coffee for them both, they joined Scorpius on the couch again. Just as the show was ending, Harry picked up the remote and switched the television off.

“Harry!” Scorpius whined. “I was watching that!”

“Well, your papa and I were planning to go out and have some fun. Would you rather get ready and come with us, or would you rather stay here and watch more Telly?”

Scorpius considered his options for a moment, before Draco cut in.

“That was a rhetorical question, Scorpius. You’re still a little young to stay alone in a muggle hotel.”

“What’s ritorical?” Scorpius asked. 

“Why don’t you get ready and I’ll tell you on the way,” Harry said.

“But where are we going?” Scorpius countered. 

“Well, I had two ideas. Maybe you can help me pick?” When Scorpius nodded eagerly, Harry continued. “My first idea was that we could go for a ride on a cable car. It’s like a small train that muggles built to take them around the city.”

“Yeah! I wanna go on the train!”

“It’s not actually a train,” Draco tried to explain, though he seemed to have no words to explain exactly what it _ was _.

“The second idea,” Harry continued, “is that there are a bunch of shops inside an old chocolate factory that we could go see.”

Scorpius’ eyes lit up at the mention of chocolate, and Harry wasn’t surprised to see that Draco’s did too. Before long, they were on their way to Ghirardelli Square. The thought of riding a cable car seemed forgotten in their taxi—Harry had failed to remember that even a normal car would be a new experience for his travel companions.

Harry and Draco were surprised to find a rich history at the square when they arrived, and promptly decided that a tour would be a good idea. Scorpius didn’t seem to agree at first, dragging his feet as they went, but his mood instantly lifted at the sight of all the chocolate in the store where the tour ended. The little trio were soon seated at a table in the sun with large chocolate sundaes in front of them, chattering happily about the things they’d seen, the car ride, and the shows on the Telly. 

The next few days continued much in the same way. They would spend most of the day wandering the city, exploring new cuisines and historical sites. Having a five-year-old in tow was quite an experience for Harry. He’d never considered how different a child’s needs could be. Scorpius often got tired from lots of walking, and was never shy about asking for souvenirs or snacks that caught his eye. By their third day, Harry found that he and Draco were able to communicate just from looking at each other, deciding in a split second glance who would deal with Scorpius’ next tantrum or indulge his next whim. He was also surprised to find that the city looked very different from a child’s perspective. 

“Look at the fishes!” Scorpius called one afternoon, hanging off of Harry’s arm as they admired a mural of street art.

“Fish, Scorpius, not fishes. Where do you see fish?” Draco asked, cocking his head at the wall. It appeared to be a mural of enormous flowers in a field, but after a moment of looking, Harry saw it. Getting closer to the wall, he could see that each flower was made of a bunch of smaller images, and the one right in front of them was made of small little fish.

“The flower is made of fish!” Scorpius explained. “And that one is made of kitty cats!”

“That’s quite clever of you to have noticed that Scorpius.” Scorpius beamed at his father’s praise, and not for the first time, Harry found himself falling in love with the obvious adoration Draco showed his son. He was clearly an attentive father, always taking the time to explain things to Scorpius or to make sure he was comfortable. It was obvious that Draco was making an effort to ensure his son grew up without the same prejudices and ignorance he had, and Harry couldn’t help feeling so proud of that.

Since staying out all day took quite a lot out of Scorpius, they usually found themselves back in the hotel by dinner time, ordering room service or pizza and relaxing in front of the TV. Tonight was no exception, and as usual, Scorpius was snoring loudly on his father’s lap by the time the credits rolled.

“Thank you for inviting us on this trip, Harry,” Draco said, once the Telly had been switched off. “I’ve always wanted to give Scorpius experiences like this, but it’s difficult as a single parent. I can’t help wondering if I’m holding him back.”

Harry shook his head. “I think you’re doing an incredible job with him. You put so much care into even the simplest interactions with him, making sure he has the space and safety to learn, and it’s obvious that he feels the love. He’s a brilliant kid, and it’s entirely because of you.”

Draco beamed with pride at that. After sitting together for a few more minutes, Draco finally got up with Scorpius nestled safely in his arms.

“I’d better get him to bed. Do you have anything planned for tomorrow?”

Harry nodded. He summoned a flyer he’d picked up while they were in the wizarding sector earlier that day.

“I thought we could visit the American Museum of Dragonology and Creature Heritage. They supposedly have a dragon reserve somewhere up in the state of Washington, but I figured just the museum might be enough for us.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I think we can pass on the live dragons. Just the museum sounds great. We’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Goodnight,” Harry said softly as he closed the door between their rooms. His room felt a little too big without the Malfoys cuddled on his sofa, but he didn’t worry about it as he got into bed thinking of dragons, and eventually falling asleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

The American Museum of Dragonology and Creature Heritage was enormous. In hindsight, they should have expected it, seeing as they housed multiple activity centers and entire dragon skeletons, on top of the gift shops and restaurants. It took Drago almost five minutes of staring at the map to figure out where they were going. Harry had meant to help, but then Scorpius had sucked him into a game of patty-cake. They were still playing when Draco folded up the map and gave them an exasperated look.

“That song will be stuck in my head for weeks thanks to you two. I’ve figured out how to get to the Dragon wing, it’s not far from here.”

“Yay, dragons!” Scorpius cried, clapping his hands. He jumped up and Draco took his hand, leading him down a busy hallway with Harry falling into step next to them.

As they stepped through the brass doors leading into the dragon history wing, they were greeted by a huge replica of a young Norwegian Ridgeback suspended over the hallway. Harry was reminded of Norberta and couldn’t help nudging Draco as Scorpius ran off to look at a display of a fossilized egg. 

“That’s the same dragon we were smuggling out of the castle in our first year,” Harry said, pointing up at the replica. 

“Wait, there was actually a dragon?” Draco demanded, eyes growing wide. “I thought it was some elaborate prank to get me into trouble!”

"Of course you did. You would probably have done it first if you'd thought of it."

Draco opened his mouth to argue but it seemed he had no retort for Harry. 

"We should keep up with Scorpius," Draco mumbled, hurrying after his son who looked very much like he wanted to reach over the security rope and pick up the dragon egg.

"Papa, do you think the egg will hatch? Will we get to see a baby dragon?"

"I don't think so, Scorpius. The egg is fossilized."

"What does that mean?"

"It means the egg got stuck inside a stone for hundreds of years, until a few dragonologists found it and dug it out," came a voice from behind them. They turned to find a stern looking witch standing there.

"My name is Marissa," she offered. "I work here in the museum as a magical historian."

"So if the egg got stuck, how did you get it out?" Scorpius asked curiously.

"Well we used a combination of magic and muggle excavation techniques. There's a game area down the hall where you can try it, and then put a dragon skeleton together with the bones you find."

"Can we papa! Can we find dragon bones?"

"That sounds like fun," Draco agreed. "Let's go!"

Scorpius grabbed hold of his father's hand and with the other reached out for Harry's. He hung between them as they made their way down the hall to the children's activity area. Scorpius seemed to be getting really excited at the sounds of other children playing and laughing, but as soon as they rounded the corner, his face fell.

"They're digging in _ sand_," he moaned, watching all the other children running around in a giant sandpit, most of them barefoot with the cuffs of their trousers rolled up. 

"If you don't want to go in the sand, we can go see the rest of the museum," Draco suggested. Scorpius bit his lip and it looked for a moment like he was going to agree, but then a young boy jumped up in the middle of the pit. 

"Mom look! I found a wing!" He cried gleefully. He ran to the edge of the pit to hand her the new piece, which joined a collection of other pieces he'd found. She helped him dust himself off before leading him to a large table where kids were assembling the fake bones into wonky looking dragons.

"Papa, I really want to build a dragon," Scorpius said, staring longingly at the new wing piece that the other boy was flapping around happily. 

Unable to bear the disappointed look on his face, Harry flagged down an attendant who was walking by them.

"Excuse me. Is there any way for the children to assemble the skeletons without digging in the sand? Scorpius here isn't comfortable in the sand."

Scorpius looked up hopefully at Harry's question, but the attendant smiled apologetically.

"I'm really sorry, we don't have any spare pieces that aren't buried. I do have some papers and markers if you would like to draw some dragons?"

Scorpius shook his head. "I draw at Papa's office all the time. I wanna_ build _ a dragon."

The attendant apologised again, before walking away to help another child.

“What if I cast an impervious? Then it would keep all the sand off of you while you’re in the pit,” Harry suggested. Scorpius shook his head.

“No. I don’t like sand,” he insisted. Harry looked helplessly at Draco, unsure what else he could suggest. He was surprised to see a determined look on Draco’s face.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Draco announced. It took Harry and Scorpius a moment to realise what he meant, until Draco sat down on a bench and started untying his shoes.

“But you both have to tell me exactly where to look. It’s going to be awkward if I’m the only parent in there and you’re not even giving me directions.”

Scorpius’ face lit up as he realised that his father was going to go into the sandpit for him. Grinning along, Harry led Scorpius to the edge of the sandpit, where they started scanning the mounds of sand while waiting for Draco to be ready. When his father stepped into the pit, Scorpius was ready.

“Try that hill over there, Papa! No, lower!”

Harry soon noticed that they were drawing the attention of other families in the area, but since Scorpius didn’t seem to mind, neither did he. He watched happily as Scorpius called instructions to Draco, who was looking highly annoyed with all the sand, but even more determined to make his son happy. Every time he looked up and acknowledged Scorpius’ instructions, he made sure to have a big smile on his face, and would follow the directions without hesitating, even if they were clearly sending him astray. Harry couldn’t help wondering how few people ever got to see this loving and caring side of Draco, the one that cherished his son so much that he’d put aside his comfort and his dignity just to make him smile. Feeling privileged to be allowed to witness it, Harry smiled along as well.

“Harry, he can’t hear me! He’s too far on the other side of the pit,” Scorpius whined. He tried calling his father again, but to no avail. The sounds of the other families were covering up any chance Scorpius had of drawing his father’s attention from so far away.

“Well then,” Harry said determinedly. “I guess we’ll just have to go get him.”

“But I don’t want to go into the sand,” Scorpius pointed out. Harry nodded and toed off his shoes before swooping Scorpius up and settling him on his back.

“No worries, Scorp. That’s why your personal Harry-train is here to carry you!”

Scorpius laughed as they marched across the pit.

“Harry-train sounds silly!” he giggled. He was still laughing as they approached Draco, who looked up at the familiar sound in surprise.

“Well, look who decided to join me,” Draco drawled, earning another set of giggles from Scorpius. “And right on time too. Look what I think I just found.”

He pointed at an exposed plastic bone with a triangular shape, before bending down to brush more sand off of it. Scorpius gasped as he recognised the coveted wing piece.

“You found a wing, Papa!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “I think we have enough pieces now!”

Harry could see the relief wash over Draco’s face, and within minutes they were settled in the building area, composing a lopsided dragon with 3 legs, half a tail, and one wing. It seemed that none of the children in the building area had enough pieces, and while some kicked their shoes off again and ran back into the sandpit to look for them, Scorpius was happy to come up with imaginative explanations as to how his dragon survived with it’s abnormal skeleton. 

“This dragon walks on two legs, like a human. The extra leg is just there for balance, like when he lands from flying.”

“And how does your dragon fly with only one wing?” Harry asked, holding said wing in place while Scorpius fastened it to the spine.

“It only needs one wing, Harry,” Scorpius sighed, as if this was common knowledge. “Two wings just makes it faster, but sometimes it’s okay not to be the fastest.”

While he hadn’t done very well in either muggle physics or care of magical creatures at school, Harry was sure that flight worked a little differently than the way Scorpius assumed. He didn’t see any need to point it out though—Scorpius was happy, and he and Draco were sharing knowing little looks that had butterflies racing around in his stomach.

Once Scorpius had declared his dragon “complete”, the attendant returned with a little bronze plaque, charming his name and the date on it, before levitating the dragon into the display case full of hundreds of other misshapen dragons. Scorpius was admiring it proudly when a wizard in long purple robes swept into the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen! This is just a reminder that story time will be starting in five minutes! For those who are interested, please make your way into the auditorium now!”

“Can we hear the story?” Scorpius asked. 

“I think that’s a very good idea,” Draco replied, and once again grabbing both their hands, Scorpius led them into the auditorium. It hadn’t filled up yet, and so they got good seats right at the front. Scorpius gazed up at the lit stage, chattering away as he wondered what the story would be about. It wasn’t long before the room filled up and the lights dimmed, putting the focus on the stage.

“Good afternoon everyone!” the same wizard from before called out. “Welcome to story time! Today’s story is called ‘Love among the dragons’_ . _ Now, before we get started, I’d like to ask for two volunteers from the crowd to help me with the story. These volunteers will need to be adults with no legal restrictions on practicing magic. Do we have any volunteers?”

“Here!” Scorpius called out, jumping up from his chair and point at Harry and Draco on either side of him. Draco hissed at him to sit down, but it was too late -- the wizard in purple robes had spotted them.

“Marvelous! Come on up gentlemen, don’t be shy now, come on up!”

Draco gave Harry another one of those looks before standing up and striding over to the stage. Harry hurried to keep up, casting one last glance back at Scorpius who looked incredibly excited to be seeing his two travel companions participating in this activity.

“Thank you for being such good sports, gentlemen,” the host said quietly. “The only other volunteers were in the back, and I’d rather not leave children unattended where we can’t see them from the stage.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Draco muttered, turning to wave at Scorpius.

“Let’s have our two volunteers introduce themselves!” the host cried out. “Your names, gentlemen?”

“I’m Draco and this is Harry,” Harry said quickly, grinning at the sound of Scorpius’ roaring laughter from the front row. Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to correct Harry’s cheesy joke.

“Ah. Did you know that Draco is in fact Latin for _ dragon _? You’re the perfect volunteer sir, because today, I’ll need both of you to act out our dragons! Please, come over here and pick your dragon wings.”

He led them over to the side of the stage, where there was a selection of cloth wings sitting on a table. Draco tossed Harry the same knowing look again before picking up a lime green set of wings and handing Harry a bright orange one. Remembering Scorpius’ plan for decorating his father’s office from all those months ago, Harry grinned back, slipping the wings over his arms. The returned to the front of the stage, where the host was now settling down in a chair off to the side, a large picture book in his hands.

“Let’s get started. A long, long time ago, there were two young dragons, Harry and Draco, who were good friends.”

Unsure what else to do, Harry and Draco starting flapping their wings, sending gentle puffs of air towards each other.

“The two friends used to do lots of fun things together, like flying races…” he paused and looked at Harry and Draco, who both sprinted across the stage, flapping their wings wildly. Draco reached the end first and turned to Harry with a smug smile, but it promptly disappeared when the host yelled out, “Congratulations, Harry!”

“The dragons had other friends too, but they liked to hang out with each other the most. One day, Harry had to go away on a migration with his family, and had to leave Draco behind.”

Putting on a sad expression, Harry flapped his way to the side of the stage, leaving a sad looking Draco standing behind. 

“Um, Harry left Draco, not the other way around, gentlemen,” the host said, and realising their mistake, Harry and Draco rushed to switch positions, making the audience chuckle.

“Harry was gone for ages, and Draco was left all alone. He couldn’t help wondering what fun things Harry was doing without him. Was he having flying races with his other friends? Draco felt jealous at the thought, and he stopped flying while Harry was gone.”

Harry stopped flapping his wings and sat down on the stage to show his sadness.

“As time passed, Draco kept feeling lonely. Sometimes he’d see another dragon in the distance, and he always got so excited, hoping it was Harry.” A shadow swept across the edge of the stage, and Harry jumped up, pretending to be excited. In reality though, he was anxious as to how this story would play out. It was already quite depressing, and he didn’t want it to upset Scorpius.

“One day, Draco decided that he would go looking for Harry. He got up from his nest and set out to find his friend.”

Excited that the story seemed to be picking up, Harry started flapping his wings again.

“He searched high and low, wide and far! Draco climbed mountains—Harry pretended to fly upwards—and he searched the valleys!—Harry made a swooping movement—He called out for Harry, but still, he couldn’t find his friend.”

“Harry!” Harry called out, cupping the edge of the wings to his mouth. Draco smiled at him from the side of the stage, clearly trying not to laugh at all Harry’s antics.

Finally, Draco decided to return home, scared that he would never see his friend again. But when he got there, there was a wonderful surprise waiting for him. Harry had come home too, and was waiting for him!”

Draco flapped his wings and ran to join Harry in the middle of the stage. Harry felt surprisingly reassured that Draco was back by his side.

“The two friends were so happy to see each other again, that they decided they would spend the rest of their lives together. They loved each other, and once dragons find their true loves, they never leave them again. So Harry and Draco lived happily ever after. The end!”

Everyone in the audience started cheering as Harry turned to Draco and pulled him into a tight hug. They grinned at Scorpius, who was standing on his chair and cheering, before turning to put their wings away and shaking hands with their host. They had just returned to their seats when he spoke again.

“Yes, that was a happy story. And it showed us something about the mating habits of dragons. Dragons believe in their one true love, and they won’t mate with anyone else. Some dragons will spend their whole life looking for their one true love, and won’t find them until they’re very old, but when they do find each other, they’re finally very happy. Dragonologists have spent decades studying how dragons know who their true love is, and humans have spent centuries trying to recreate that magic, either by creating soul matching bonds or love potions.”

Harry missed the rest of the talk distracted by the thought of humans recreating the magic of true love that dragons lived by. He vaguely remembered Slughorn telling them in their sixth year that no potion could create true love—they were all cheap imitations, meant to cause infatuation only. He also knew that soul matching bonds were more trouble than they were worth, and therefore very uncommon. Despite being such a natural process for dragons, it seemed humans had no way of identifying who their true love was. Was that his fate too? Was he destined to spend the rest of his life _ hoping _ that one day he might end up finding his one true love?

And what if one day he did fall in love with someone, but they didn’t love him back. It had felt like he was in the same position with Laura for a while, and quite frankly, had been an awful feeling. But if it happened once, surely it would happen again?

Harry continued to dwell on his fears as the afternoon wore on. They visited the rest of the museum after an “eat-like-a-dragon!” buffet lunch, and before long Scorpius was complaining that his feet hurt, so they piled into a taxi to head back to the hotel. 

After the long day they’d had, all three of them piled onto Harry’s bed, switched on the TV, and ordered room service for dinner. Scorpius had barely finished eating before he passed out between Harry and Draco, still wearing the new t-shirt Harry had bought for him at the gift shop. Noticing his son was dead to the world, Draco levitated the large tray of food over to the table while Harry reached for the remote and lowered the volume on the animated movie that they had been watching.

“Thank you for today,” Draco said, stroking Scorpius’ hair gently. “Actually, thank you for this whole trip,” he added with a chuckle. 

“I’m so glad you were both able to join me,” Harry said, leaning back against the pillows. “All my travels so far have been great, but San Francisco has been the best trip so far.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

“Just thinking,” Harry said with a shrug.

“Do you mind if I ask about what?” Draco pushed. 

Harry hesitated. 

“I’ve been thinking about the story time at the museum,” he sighed. “About how dragons mate with their true loves, and how humans have been trying to mimic that pure love for centuries. It’s a little depressing, isn’t it? To think that we can’t have that one person who was meant just for us?”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Draco said with a frown. “I do believe that we have our true loves out there somewhere.”

“Really? A divorce lawyer believes in true love?”

Draco gave him a small smile as he nodded.

“After all the shit I see, all the ridiculous reasons people get married—and yes, I do count myself among the idiots for having married Astoria in the first place—I feel like I need to believe in true love. I need to hold on to that hope that there is someone out there, and that we’re not destined to be lonely and bitter forever. It helps to remind myself that for every ugly marriage I see, there are at least a hundred out there that don’t need my services, and that’s a wonderful thought.”

Harry considered that. It must really be a depressing job to have to break people up all the time. He wondered what Draco thought of having to have done it four times for him, but he was too scared to ask.

“I think it’s just something we’ve been taught to believe in. That’s why they’ve been trying to invent potions and spells and bonds for centuries, but we’ve never figured out how to recreate true love. It’s a little depressing to think that even dragons can find true love, but I can’t.”

Draco sighed. “I agree that spells and potions don’t work. True love is a power that’s a little too difficult to be duped by simple magic. But it’s there. The dragons can feel it, and I’m sure to a certain extent, so can we.”

Draco sat up and stared at Harry for a moment, before speaking again.

“And you will find it Harry. I know you’re feeling down on yourself because none of your marriages worked out. I know it seems a little hopeless, like no one will ever love you. But that’s not true.” 

“You can’t know that for sure,” Harry groused.

“True love doesn’t have to be a romantic thing,” Draco said, sitting back against the pillows and resuming his stroking of Scorpius’ hair. “I learned that the day Scorpius was born.” 

Harry couldn’t help but smile at that. It had always been clear that Draco was a wonderful father, but this trip had served to show him exactly how close the relationship between the two Malfoys really was. 

“I’ve also been learning that it doesn’t have to be instant,” Draco continued, staring blankly at the TV. “Turns out, it’s possible to fall in love with someone over a long period of time. One day it’s their smile that you can’t stop thinking about. Then a month later, it’s some careless mannerism of theirs that keeps you up at night. Then weeks after that, it’s their generosity in inviting you on a trip that makes your son so happy he looks like he’s going to burst, and their active participation in making his life as wonderful as possible, that makes you realise you’ll never want to spend your life with anyone else.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as he realised what Draco was saying. He wasn’t sure how to respond, but didn’t need to when Draco kept talking.

“Basically what I’m saying, Harry, is that you have to know how to recognise it when someone loves you. Someone like Scorpius, who thinks the world of you. Or even better… someone like me.”

And that was when it hit Harry. These two snarky, playful, kind-hearted blonds meant the world to him. He didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t see them regularly, if he couldn’t spend the rest of his life taking care of them and making them happy. He _ loved _ them, and if Draco was to be believed, they loved him back. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward, toward Draco.

“I think… I love you too. Both of you,” he said breathlessly. There was a moment where everything seemed to stop except Draco’s smile, and then Draco was kissing him, and it felt so _ right. _ He shifted forward to capture Draco’s lips fully, and it was everything he’d ever wanted. He moaned softly against Draco’s lips, before he felt something move next to his hand.

“Wha— eewww!” Scorpius cried from under them. They broke apart in shock, staring at the young boy as he continued to scream.

“EEEEWWWYYY EW EW EW! Why are you guys _ kissing? _ That’s GROSS! EEEEWWW!!”

“Would you like a kiss as well?” Draco asked, clearly trying his hardest not to laugh. Scorpius looked horrified, and he wriggle out of his father’s grasp, dodging the kiss before he slid off the bed.

“I’m going back to my own room where there’s no gross kissing!” he declared. He marched off through the door that connected both rooms and clambered onto his own bed, hiding under the cover for good measure. It was too much for Harry, who started laughing at Scorpius’ antics. He turned to find Draco laughing as well.

“I guess I’d better get over there and put him to bed,” Draco finally sighed. 

“Okay.” Harry watched as Draco followed his son toward their room. He had just reached the door frame when Harry felt a sudden spark of bravery.

“You could always come back, you know. After he goes to sleep,” Harry said, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate. Draco looked surprised for a moment, but then a lazy grin spread across his face.

“Careful, Potter,” he said softly. “One might think you’re falling in love with me.”

Harry grinned at that—he definitely was. And it felt _ wonderful. _


	6. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally learns that home is where the heart is.

“So, what do you think?” Scorpius asked as his father looked around the newly completed apartment in awe.

“This is… incredible! Did you two really do this all by yourselves?”

Scorpius nodded proudly. “Harry used lots of magic, but it was all my ideas.”

“That’s not true!” Harry chuckled. “I’m the one who picked yellow walls, remember?” 

“But you were just copying your friend’s house! You said so!” 

Scorpius was technically right—Harry had gotten the idea from his stay in Hassan’s house months prior—and so Harry simply sighed and conceded the point.

Over the past few months, Harry and Scorpius had spent many days together, shopping for and decorating the empty apartment. Harry had originally invited him as a way to take him off of Draco’s hands for a while, but as the weeks turned into months, his relationship with both Malfoys had bloomed. Harry now had a very cheerful and well thought out apartment that he was sure Scorpius considered to be a second home by now. Draco had already mentioned that he was looking for a place in London, since the Manor was inconveniently far from both Scorpius’ charms school and his office. Harry had finally gone out last night and made a second copy of the key to the apartment, and had wrapped it carefully in golden paper, along with three other gifts: a poker chip he’d nicked from a casino in Vegas, a string of beads he’d brought back from Chad, and the extra love spoon he’d bought in Norway all those months ago. Since their return from San Francisco, Draco had been helping him understand that all these symbols for love didn’t have to end in marriage. They were just more ways that humans had come up with for expressing their love, and they were all beautiful in their own way. While Harry wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to get married again, he was planning to ask Draco to move in with him after Scorpius went to bed tonight.

He just hoped he’d say yes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


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